


In Short Order

by pontmercy44



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversaries, Ben is a sinnamon roll, Ben is not a Boy Scout, Bromance, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, F/M, First Date, Gay Finn, Kinky Shit, Make up sex, Non-Chronological, Porn Star 'Stach, Pregnancy Scare, Prompt me!, Semi-Public Sex, The L Word - Freeform, Tinder, ben's into weird shit, camping trip, commitment issues, compromise is key, dog parents, fluff and smut and everything nice, jealous!Rey, meet the parents, nachos, periods are the worst, preggo eggo, stubborn babies, the green eyed monster, trying for baby, weird analogies, whoops!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontmercy44/pseuds/pontmercy44
Summary: They’d only forgone condoms a month ago. It had been an awkward conversation – are you doing this with anyone else? Are you? No? Do you have any diseases? – but she loved the feel of him inside her. It was something she would never have admitted to any other man. Most men had to be cajoled or bribed to wear condoms. She had to insist, because she didn’t know how serious their relationship was or how serious it would become.She wanted this relationship to be serious. She thought it was on the cusp of that.





	1. Pet Parents

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever heard the expression "write what you want to read?" 
> 
> Well, I love "City Lights," and "Home is Where the Heart Is," and "Infinite Doors." I decidedly to blatantly rip of all of those brilliant authors and start an ongoing light, fluffy, smutty story, told non-chronologically, about a relationship - how they fell in love, stay in love, and make love. And the best part is... I want you to help me! My favorite thing about fan-fiction is how collaborative it is, and I don't have a Tumblr (because, shudder) so leave your prompts and feedback in the comments.

“Don’t be mad.”

Rey set her butter knife down. Ben was far away – somewhere between the east coast and the west coast, in fact – but one could never be too sure. She propped her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. “What did you do?”

“Don’t kill me.” Ben upped the ante.

 _That_ had escalated quickly. Rey narrowed her eyes as if he was standing in front of her, not driving on some desolate highway in western Pennsylvania or somewhere like that. He had driven, not flown, to his father’s funeral. It was an impractical thing to do – very unlike her boyfriend. She suspected he wanted time alone – time to listen to all of his father’s old mix tapes, to reminisce, to eat Taco Bell, to cry.

It wouldn’t have been right to invite herself to the funeral. She’d never met the man, and she’d only been dating his son for four and half months.

“What did you?” She repeated.

“Look out the front window.”

Frowning, Rey crossed the width of her tiny apartment. She swiped the curtain aside and peered down. Three stories below her, her boyfriend was standing on the curb. He was home early, and unshaven. There were dark circles under his eyes that made her ache for him. To his left was a cardboard box – his father’s things, she realized. It probably held mementos of a relationship that had seen better days. Things like pictures and ticket stubs from baseball games – reminders of those better days.

But the cardboard box wasn’t the _only_ thing he’d brought home from California.

“You got a fucking _golden retriever_?”

***

“This is Chewy.” Ben said, after the dog had summarily licked Rey’s kneecaps and then made itself comfortable on her narrow settee – a velvet settee that would _not_ hide shed fur. He said it as if he was introducing her to a long-lost friend, not an impulse buy.

“Are you having a midlife crisis?” Rey asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is the dog your version of a sports car?”

“First of all, I’m not middle aged.” Ben told her, mildly. “And my _father_ just died.”

Rey felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, but she _hated_ dogs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Do I get a kiss?” Ben changed the subject and leaned forward, hunching and puckering his beautiful pink mouth.

Rey ducked. She would _not_ be guilted into a kiss and she would _not_ be guilted into a dog. A fucking _dog_. “Your building doesn’t even allow dogs.”

That was a wild guess – he lived in a sleek co-op near the water, a far cry from her studio apartment on Atlantic Avenue. She was right.

“…yours does?”

“Ben, no!” Rey wailed. Chewy barked, to punctuate her point. Both to the barking dog and her boyfriend, she repeated, “No!”

Ben turned what could only be described, unironically, as _puppy eyes_ on her. Somehow his gaze was browner and more liquid than the golden retriever’s. “He was my dad’s dog.”

And _that_ was how Rey and Ben ended up living together.

Chewy moved in first. With him he brought not one but two stinky dog beds, twelve chew toys, and a tornado of golden hair.

“Mother _fuck_.” Rey shouted, when she tripped over a toy in the morning. Her neighbor smacked on the wall, irritated. Ben sat up in bed, messy-haired and bleary-eyed.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up?” He asked, amused and sleepy, as she stepped over the offending toy to go to the bathroom.

“It’s your damn dog.” She muttered, stomping away.

Rey refused to vacuum the dog’s hair, too. She refused to walk the beast. She _adamantly_ refused to pick up its shit. She only _begrudgingly_ fed and watered it because Ben would never forgive her if she killed his dad’s dog. If she had an ulterior motive – ensuring that Ben slept over a lot – she’d never admit it.

Her secret plan backfired, at first.

“I can’t have sex with the dog in the room.” Ben told her, scandalized. “What if he jumps on the bed?”

“He’s not allowed on the bed.” Rey told him, exasperated.

Ben looked even more scandalized. “You make him sleep on the floor? That’s bad for his hips.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Ben.” Rey put her head in her hands, well and truly sexually frustrated. She felt like the parent of a newborn. Chewy had cried the first night he’d been at her apartment. She hadn’t slept well at all. Then, he’d woken her up with his sloppy tongue between her toes at five in the morning and she’d screeched, thinking someone was trying to eat her toes. “We’ll put him in the bathroom.”

Ben scowled. “He’ll think we’re punishing him.”

“He _did_ vomit on the rug today.”

“It’s stress.” Ben said, primly. “He has food sensitivities.”

Rey stared at him. It dawned on her that she might never have sex – well, at least with this idiotic man – in her own bed again. His jaw had that stubborn set to it that she recognized from arguing over restaurants and movies.

She’d been emotionally blackmailed into taking this wayward, geriatric golden retriever in. Ben was good. He’d gotten her to cohabitate with a disgusting, hairy creature that _wasn’t_ him before he shaved and showered.

She was good, too, though.

She grabbed his collar, kissing him forcefully. As she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, his eyes went wide before they blinked shut. He barely had time to react before she reached for his belt, unfastening it with jerky, assertive motions.

“I, uh…” Ben’s ears colored. He looked down at her hands as she unbuttoned his fly and unzipped his jeans. His throat bobbed. He stopped her as she reached into his pants to draw out his half-hard cock.

Rey almost _did_ kill him, then, for choosing the damn dog over sex with her.

Turning to the dog, Ben crouched and rubbed his ears affectionately. “Mommy and Daddy need some alone time. No peeking.”  

Rey choked. Those words did funny things to her. They weren’t words she could relate to herself or to Ben. Neither of them had children. She was not inclined to. For Christ’s sake, she hadn’t even been inclined to have a goldfish, let alone a dog. “I’m not his mommy.”

Ben straightened up, wrapping his arms around her waist. He gave her that cock-sure grin that still made her heart skip a beat after four months. “Do you want to be?”

“No.” Rey scowled at him. It was a white lie. She wanted nothing to do with the dog. She _did_ want to be his counterpart, whatever he was. If he was a dog’s daddy – silly as that sounded – well, she wanted to be the dog’s mommy.

Ben bent down and kissed her scowl away, picking her up and crossing the apartment in three long steps. He peeled off her socks, shorts, and t-shirt, throwing them on the floor.

“He’s going to chew those.” Rey panted, as he latched onto her neck and sucked, seemingly intent on giving her an embarrassing hickey that would necessitate a turtleneck in April.

Ben released the skin of her neck with a slick little pop. He knelt over her, peeling off his shirt. “How do you think he got his name?”

He pushed his jeans down to his knees and settled in between her thighs, kissing her collarbone. She shivered in delight as she felt him nudge against her. They’d only forgone condoms a month ago. It had been an awkward conversation – _are you doing this with anyone else? Are you? No? Do you have any diseases?_ – but she loved the feel of his dick inside her. It was something she would never have admitted to any other man. Most men had to be cajoled or bribed to wear condoms. She had to insist, because she didn’t know how serious their relationship was or how serious it would become.

She wanted this relationship to be serious. She thought it was on the cusp of being serious. His stupid animal was living at her apartment. That had to mean something.

“You feel great.” Ben nuzzled her chin as he set up a rhythm.

“I’m glad you’re home.” Rey whispered, into his hair. This was vanilla sex. Ben wasn’t usually vanilla – and if she was honest with herself, neither was she – but he’d been gone for almost two weeks, and he’d been at his father’s funeral, to boot. If comforting, steady-girlfriend sex was what he wanted, she’d give it to him. Happily.

Something warm and wet brushed her elbow, and for a moment, she thought she’d miscalculated – maybe Ben _did_ have a bit of kink in him today. Her belly flipped with excitement.

Then, she opened her eyes and saw a great, golden, furry face staring at her. _Chewy_ was licking her arm, lazily. She screeched, yanking it away and flailing under Ben’s body.

“Fuck!” Ben shielded her with his bicep and hand, his thrusts faltering. “Go _away_ , Chewy.”

The dog whined and yawned as if to say, _you’re no fun, having plain old missionary position sex,_ and then amicably wandered away to flop down in the corner.

They froze until his snores resumed. With an awkward, self-deprecating laugh, Ben buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Did that kill the mood?”

Rey did something she knew would revive the mood. It always did. She reached down and sunk her nails into his ass, hitching her legs up around his waist and bucking up against him to encourage him to get back to work. “It better not have.”

She felt him smile against her lips as he began moving again, the skin of his lower belly creating delicious friction against hers. “Thank you for putting up with him. And with me.”

Rey though about explaining that she only put up with the dog because it was his father’s dog, and it was important to him, and he was important to her. So, so important. She might even love him.

Then, Ben seemed to decide that plain vanilla sex wasn’t cutting it. He pulled out, flipped her over and gripped her by her hips, slamming back into her without further ado. The mattress creaked loudly as he pumped away, and Chewy twitched in his corner.

“I probably shouldn’t –” Ben cut himself off with a huff of embarrassed laughter. “ – make a joke about doing this doggy style – ”

Rey groaned into the pillow. If he was making jokes like that, and if this wasn’t going to be sweet, tender lovemaking – well, _that_ conversation could wait.

***

The next morning at the coffee shop down the block, Rey found herself talking to a woman with a miniature poodle on the terrace as Ben stood in line for the lattes.

“Our dog is huge. Like, huge.” Rey gestured with her hands to prove her point. “He sheds constantly and he has no concept of personal space.”

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, as if to make a point.

Rey jumped. She turned around, embarrassed to be caught in a moment of weakness. It was the principle of the thing, damn it. Chewy was Ben’s dog. She didn’t even _like_ Chewy.

Ben was holding their lattes, a shit-eating grin on his face. “ _Our_ dog, huh?”


	2. First Date

“How far is your apartment?” Ben’s date asked, as they left the sushi restaurant he always brought first dates to. It was the perfect venue – not too loud, not too romantic. Exotic enough to make a woman think he was cultured when, in reality, he ate a lot of pizza and Taco Bell.

“Not too far.” Ben looked up and down the street. It was quiet and late. He liked the streets best like this – damp, clean, and empty. He liked walking alone at night. He didn’t like the idea of making a woman walk alone at night. It wasn’t safe. He didn’t have the same concerns for his own safety – he was well over six feet tall and a two hundred pounds. Still, it was nice that she was concerned. To be polite, even though it frankly didn’t matter to him how far away she lived because he was hailing her a cab regardless, he asked, “Where do you live?”

“Down on Atlantic Avenue.” Rey – that was her name – bit her lower lip in an incredibly sexy way. “So…”

Ben didn’t make her ask. He was a gentleman, at least on first dates, and especially when he wanted a second date. “Let me take care of the taxi.”

Something changed on the woman’s face. She looked almost… disappointed. Ben couldn’t fathom why. He was doing the polite thing – the thing his mother had raised him to do. He thought women liked chivalry.

Rey didn’t seem to like it. She hadn’t liked it when he’d paid for their sushi, either, or held the chair out for her when she sat. Haltingly, she said, “This was nice.”

Somehow, Ben sensed that she was about to let him down easy. He rushed ahead. She was cute – _very_ cute, exactly his type, athletic and brunette and with a fucking accent that reminded him of Harry Potter, _God_ – and he didn’t want to blow this. “We should do it again sometime. Wait – shit, that’s what people say when they don’t really mean it. What are you doing Friday?”

Rey half-smiled. She looked very uncomfortable. “I had a nice time.”

“There’s a _but_ there.” Ben remarked, tucking his hands into his pockets. He was inexplicably disappointed.

Rey’s shoulders sagged. “…but I’m not looking for anything.”

“Anything?” Ben ran a hand through his hair; it was an old anxious habit. He had been operating under the assumption that the date had gone well. It had been a bit awkward, but that was to be expected. “Dinner went _that_ badly?”

“Anything _serious_.” Rey flushed. “Are you?”

She asked it in the same way they’d lobbed questions back and forth over sushi – _I love Indian food. What’s your favorite food?_ Those questions had all been surface deep. The corresponding answers had been unrevealing.

Ben decided to be painfully honest, now. “I am.”

“Oh.” Rey croaked, red-faced.

“But I’m in the marriage demographic.” Ben rushed to explain himself. He _hated_ having to explain himself. In Manhattan, everyone seemed single and ready to mingle. No one seemed to _want_ to get married or understand why he did. In Brooklyn, everyone was already married and didn’t understand why he wasn’t. He didn’t really understand it, either. It wasn’t for lack for trying. He just hadn’t met the right girl yet – a girl with freckles and a cute accent and…

“They market marriage to a certain demographic?” Rey joked, lamely.

“You turn thirty and you start getting letters about life insurance and mortgages in the mail and solicitous emails about dating websites.”

“Like Tinder.”

“Yeah, like that.” Ben shifted on his heels. They stood at an impasse for a moment, and then he asked, a little resentfully, “Why _are_ you on Tinder if you aren’t looking for anything serious?”

Rey laughed awkwardly, touching her hair. “You know why.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I mean.” She squirmed. “The same reason everyone’s on Tinder.”

Ben had only downloaded the application at his buddy’s suggestion last week. His finger was too big to swipe dexterously and too many of the profiles used acronyms he didn’t understand – things like _DTF,_ whatever that meant.

Rey looked incredibly self-conscious. He thought about her odd behavior – asking him if he could meet that _very night_ without any chatting or prelude, despite the late hour. She’d been surprised when he suggested a nice restaurant. She’d been confused when he’d asked the standard get-to-know-you questions.  She wasn’t being polite when she asked where he lived. She was _hinting._

This wasn’t a date. This was a _hook-up._

He hadn’t realized.

“Oh.” Ben managed. “I… uh, I guess I’m too old for Tinder.”

He was going to _kill_ Hux. His face was aflame, and his awful ears were, too. He wasn’t looking for a casual hook-up. He’d had plenty of those in his twenties. He was _thirty_. He wanted a girlfriend, and one day, a wife and a golden retriever and a house with a picket fence.

“No, but you’re too nice for Tinder.” Rey stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek as a taxi swerved over to the curb to pick her up. Ben wanted to throw himself in front of it and end his own suffering. He’d never felt so _naive_.

As she slipped into the backseat of the cab, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d both missed a wonderful opportunity.

***

When Rey slouched into work five minutes late the next morning, there was a bouquet of roses on her desk. Tucked into the extravagant foliage was a little card. Frowning, Rey picked it up. Surely, this was a mistake. She didn’t have a boyfriend. She hadn’t scratched the itch, as it were, with anyone particularly dramatic anytime recently. These roses were dramatic, all right – she was getting curious looks from her coworkers.

The card read: _I had a nice time, too._ Underneath the salutation was a phone number.

When Ben picked up, on the second ring, Rey asked, grinning, “You really don’t know how Tinder works, do you?”

“You got my flowers.” He sounded happy.

“They’re very embarrassing.” Rey almost regretted telling him where she worked – that must have been how he’d found the address to have the flowers delivered. _Almost_ regretted it.

“That’s kind of the point.”  He laughed.

“It’s not customary to send flowers after a Tinder hook up.” Rey whispered, leaning deeper into her cubicle so no one would hear her. The flowers were sure to start gossip, anyways.

“We didn’t hook up.” Ben’s voice rumbled through the phone. It was deep; it did things to her insides. Strange, pleasant things. “But if you still want to…” There was a heavy, loaded silence. Rey fingered the pen on her desk, nervously. “Seven o’clock?”

Rey laughed, despite herself. The man was persistent; she’d give him that. “Tinder hook ups are almost _exclusively_ after ten o’clock.”

“This isn’t a Tinder hook up.” Ben told her, matter-of-factly. “This is a phone call.”

“So this _is_ a date.” Rey wasn’t sure whether she should accept, if it was. She was busy. Very busy, and very emotionally unavailable.

“No, no, no. It’s definitely just a hook up.” Ben’s grin was almost audible through the phone. She imagined his high cheekbones curving with the force of it, and she realized he was lying through his perfectly imperfect teeth. He wanted to take her on a date.

Despite her misgivings, she wanted him to, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is a broody romantic. Rey is... not. 
> 
> P.S. God, it feels good to take a little break from my plotty, heavy WIP. Shameless fluff is good for my soul. 
> 
> P.P.S. I have anonymous commenting enabled. So if your prompt is, ahem, *adult*, that's okay, too.


	3. Upstate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: first fight, make-up sex, camping (but someone hates camping), finding out about Han's death, a suprise gone awry. SHEESH.

Ben pretended to bemoan turning thirty-one, but secretly, he was excited. His girlfriend of four months was, in her own words, whisking him away for the weekend to celebrate his birthday.

At first, he assumed _away_ wasn’t so far away. Sitting at his desk on Friday afternoon, he fantasized about a swanky boutique hotel in the Village. He hoped she’d wear a slinky dress out to dinner and sexy lingerie underneath it. She usually wore very businesslike black briefs and nude bras. They always ended up on the floor; he didn’t pay much attention to them. Black lingerie would get his attention.

Maybe she’d let him tie her up with that lacy bra once he took it off her, mangling it as he secured her wrists to the headboard. Maybe they’d order dessert from room service and she’d let him eat it out of her beautiful pussy. Maybe she’d let him fuck her in the ass (that was a long shot, he conceded, but it _was_ his birthday).

Hopefully all of the above, Ben decided, looking at the clock for the hundredth time. Thirty-one wasn’t _that_ old; his refractory period was still respectably short. It was going to be the best birthday _ever._

He left work early.

An hour later, they were driving north on the Palisades Interstate Parkway, and Ben adjusted his expectations. A cozy cabin upstate could be nice, too. They would make love in front of the fire and wear nothing but flannel blankets all weekend.   

Rey turned off on a winding side road. Up and up they went, up the side of a mountain. At a spot that would have seemed totally random if it weren’t for the end of the dirt road, Rey put the borrowed Jeep in park. “We’re here!”

Ben looked around the clearing with distaste. “We’re _where_?”

“We’re camping!” Rey turned off the ignition before he could lurch over put the car in reverse to back _all_ the way back down the mountain. She hopped out of the Jeep. Flinging open the tailgate, she lifted a tarp. Ben’s heart sunk when he saw she’d hidden a tent back there – a moldy, tiny looking tent. “Don’t you want to do it in the great outdoors?”

Not particularly, no, he didn’t. Ben _hated_ camping. He hated it because everything about it was unnecessarily difficult. Everything went _wrong._

Predictably, pitching the tent was harder than it looked. The ground wasn’t flat. The stakes wouldn’t stay put in the soft dirt. The tent smelled like mildew.

“This wasn’t the kind of tent I _thought_ I’d be pitching this weekend.” He grumbled to himself, as he unrolled two sleeping bags.

Rey poked her head around the tent flap. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ben stood up and promptly knocked his head on the metal piece at the apex of the tent. He was too tall for the tent, too long for the sleeping bags, too old to be sleeping on the ground. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”

Rey laughed, startled. “With a mouth like that, is it too much to hope you were a Boy Scout?”

Ben gave her an uneasy look. “Why?”

She’d forgotten firestarter.

Ben couldn’t find any dry wood. Building a fire – he hadn’t been a Boy Scout – was a futile endeavor. It fell dark, and they ate cold hot dogs, untoasted marshmallows, and graham crackers for dinner. And then it began to rain. They rushed into the tent and squatted down, both a little damp. It was silent, except for the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the nylon.

“There’s nothing to do.” Ben heard himself saying. _This_ was why he hated camping. What were they supposed to do, exchange ghost stories and braid each other’s hair?

Rey felt around in the dark. Her hand brushed his thigh, and he wondered if it was by accident. “I wonder if we can squeeze into one sleeping bag.”

Cramming together into a sleeping bag was a _little_ tame as far as birthday sex went, but it was better than nothing. “That. We can do that.”

They _could_ squeeze into one sleeping bag. They took off most of their clothes first, because undressing inside a sleeping bag seemed too ambitious. It was for the best – the wool sack was hot and scratchy. Rey scooted down into it on top of him, her breasts hanging in his face. Ben would have liked to play with them for a bit, but she kept sliding down, deeper into the bag, until she disappeared.

“Did you get lost in there?” Ben lifted the top of the brown quilted fabric and peered down at her – or rather, he peered down at where he thought she was. It was pitch-black.

Rey made an exasperated noise, blowing air out between her pursed lips, and then reached into his briefs and put her lips to work doing something else. Ben had just gotten comfortable – as comfortable as he could get – on the hard ground to enjoy his birthday blow job when there was a creaking, tearing noise.

Above them, the tent collapsed. The rain pooled on the nylon of the tent and then dumped bucketfuls on their heads. Rey screamed and narrowly missed biting down on his dick in surprise.

“Fuck!” Ben tried to duck away from the waterfall, and kicked Rey in the shoulder. The now-soaking sleeping bag trapped her flailing limbs. They both panicked for a moment, trying to unzip and untangle themselves, spitting out water and blinking rapidly to keep it out of their eyes.

When they finally managed to get the sleeping bag unzipped – not without elbowing each other a few times – they ran, mostly-naked, across the clearing to the Jeep. Its doors were locked.

“Where are the keys?” Ben bellowed.

“I don’t know!” Rey yelled back, over the sound of the storm. She was in just her panties and t-shirt, and she was soaking wet.

“Why the fuck did you lock it?” Ben felt his temper mount. He was drenched, sore, and hungry. It was his birthday, god damn it. He should be getting pampered, not stuck in the rain in just his briefs. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere! There’s nobody out here!”

“ _We’re_ out here!” Rey snapped. “Together!”

Ben growled. “I fucking hate camping!”

Rey turned on her heel and stomped back towards the collapsed tent to find the key, her feet making sloshing sounds in the mud. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “I’ve never gone camping before! I was trying to make a special memory with you, asshole!”

***

They sat in the car in the dark for almost an hour, mulishly silent, before Ben spoke. He didn’t know how to apologize. He wasn’t sure if they were still fighting – they’d never fought before. They’d quibbled about the remote and where to go to brunch, but this was their first bona fide fight.

He felt stupid for picking their first fight over something so stupid. She didn’t have the disposable income to take him away to a fancy hotel or a cabin. She didn’t know that he hated camping because it reminded him his parents, of family trips that inevitably ended in his mother and father screaming at each other. She’d had good intentions, like she always did.

Reaching over for her hand, Ben squeezed it. “Could we still have birthday sex?”

Rey sniffed, wiping her eyes. Her voice was waterlogged. “Will make-up sex do?”

Ben tugged her onto his lap, wordlessly. Her panties were damp from the rain – her jeans, left in the tent, were probably soaked by now – when he thumbed at the crotch of them. She peeled her shirt off over her head and draped it over the steering wheel behind herself, twisting deliciously in his lap.

Reaching to his left, Ben yanked the lever and his seat jerked back. Rey yelped, surprised, and gripped the headrest. He shimmied down until his face was level with those damp panties. He wasn’t sure they were just wet from the rainwater.

“You really _weren’t_ a Boy Scout.” Rey panted, as he nuzzled her clit through the cotton.

Ben laughed against her thigh. He smacked a kiss onto it. “You see that plastic handle above the window?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was breathy as he slid his finger into the crotch of the panties and traced the rim of her cunt.

“That’s called the _oh shit_ handle. Hold onto it.”

It only took a few minutes of him eating her out, holding her panties out of the way with one hand and licking enthusiastically, for her to say _oh shit_ , along with some other choice expletives. Her grip on the plastic handle was white-knuckled, and for the first time, Ben was glad they were in the middle of nowhere. Her back arched and her mouth rounded as she ground down against his nose and chin.

Thoroughly blissed-out, Rey let go of the _oh shit_ handle and slumped back. She jumped a mile when she inadvertently landed against the horn and it blared.

“I like it when you’re loud.” Ben teased.

Rey laughed, raggedly, as he sat up straighter between her splayed thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing the nape of his neck, as he pushed his briefs down his hips with one hand. It took only two tries to fit inside her – they were getting better at this. They were doing it enough.

She leaned back on the steering wheel as they rocked together, her breasts bobbing in front of his face. Ben sucked on one, tasting her sweat. The windows were fogged up completely.

“I haven’t had sex in a car since I was a teenager.” He huffed, into her cleavage. His wet underwear was starting to chafe. It was a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. There wasn’t room to do anything kinky – his knees kept hitting the dash, and his lower back already hurt – but he was close. Everything was tight in his abdomen, almost as if he was tensed in anticipation.

“Me neither.” Rey leaned down and kissed him, swallowing up his groan as the pressure at the base of his spine snapped. He arched against the wet upholstered car seat, grimacing, his breath forming clouds of condensation. He was making a mess, his semen trickling out of her and onto the seat of a car that belonged to someone else.

“Rey, I – ” Instead of saying _it_ , he grunted as she shifted around his still-sensitive shaft.

“What?” Rey asked, her breath tickling his cheek. She didn’t bother trying to sop up the wet spot they’d created. She sounded utterly sated and sleepy.

Ben chickened out. “I’m sorry for being such an ass.”

Rey rested her chin on top of his head. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday.”

Ben leaned back against the headrest, exhaling heavily. “You can make it up to me next year.”

Rey’s belly twitched against him. He thought he felt her smile against his cheek, and he realized he’d broken the cardinal rule – _never plan ahead farther than however many months or weeks you’ve been dating_. It was a good rule. It made sure both parties managed their expectations.

He’d had no expectations when he’d convinced Rey to go out with him. Now he was breaking all of the rules, talking about _next year_.

Maybe he should have said it.

***

Ben slept in the front seat of the car, the seatback reclined as far as it would go. Leaning against his chest, Rey stretched her legs into the passenger seat. It wasn’t comfortable. It was probably more uncomfortable than sleeping on the wet ground. He woke up at dawn with a mighty crick in his neck and a numb leg. Rey looked like a drowned rat in his lap.

Ben had had never felt more affection for anyone in his life than he did for her in that moment.

He stroked her wet hair off her face. She blinked, sleepily, up at him, her eyes still crusty. Her mascara was smeared by the rainwater. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Can we go back to civilization now?”

***

They found the nearest sufficiently greasy diner and ducked inside for pancakes. It wasn’t quite civilization, but it was close enough. They held hands over the sticky linoleum table-top as they ate buttermilk stacks drowned in syrup and butter. It tasted better than birthday cake. All was forgiven.

As he shoved a bite of blissful buttermilk fluff into his mouth, Ben’s phone buzzed. It _kept_ buzzing. He realized he’d been out of reception for hours. He had six voicemails. Rey laughed, nervously. “Did someone die?”

Ben shrugged, and pressed on the most recent voicemail. He lifted his phone to his ear and listened. When his mother’s voice came over the line, crackling with tears, his pancake turned to dust in his mouth.

Rey watched him, her face changing as he slowly stopped chewing. When the voicemail was over, he set the phone down, very carefully, as if it might break. His hands were shaking. “Ben?”

Ben looked down at his half-eaten breakfast, feeling like he might vomit. “It’s my dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, Primae Noctis will be updated tonight or tomorrow. It's just real heavy right now and I needed this, okay? Okay.
> 
> P.S. Next chapter... periods, and a lack therof. Intrigued?
> 
> P.P.S. I am loving all of your prompts! This chapter was a smorgasboard of several of them, and so much fun to write.


	4. Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: how does Ben change Rey's mind about not wanting anything serious?

Ben woke up to the slamming of his bathroom door. He sat up in bed, groggily. He’d been groggy a lot lately – probably because he’d been gorging on sex late into the night with his new girlfriend. Of course, he only _referred_ to her as his girlfriend when she wasn’t in earshot. They’d been dating for a scant three weeks and he didn’t want to seem too clingy.

He was crazy about her already, though. He loved saying the word girlfriend. He didn’t even care that it made Hux roll his eyes.

Ben needed to urinate, instead of sitting in bed and smiling dreamily at the pillow where her head had left an indent. Yawning, he slumped over to the bathroom door and knocked.

“Don’t come in!” Rey’s voice was high-pitched and panicked.

“Babe, I need to pee.” Ben leaned heavily on the door.

His first clue that all was not well should have been that she didn’t protest or make an awkward joke when he called her _babe_. Pet names were not her thing. Through the bathroom door, he heard her mumble, “Shit.”

“You okay, babe?” He tried using the endearment again. Still no reaction. Now, he was alarmed.

“Can you just go to work?” Rey sounded frantic.

Ben blinked at the panel of the door. “Without peeing or shaving?”

She made an exasperated, screeching noise from inside the bathroom. Mystified, Ben turned around to make up the bed, his bladder aching. He stopped short.

There was a blood stain on the sheets. To himself, he said, “Oh.”

Pivoting, he went back to the bathroom door and knocked, formally. “Do I need to take you to the emergency room or is it, uh… non-emergency blood?”

“Go _away_!” Not an emergency, then.

“I’m going to be late for work!” Ben called back.

After a moment, Rey peered out from behind the door, beet-red. “Shut your eyes.”

With a grunt, Ben obliged. He heard her moving around and heard his dressers doors open and then slam shut. Then, he heard a deep, gusty sigh. When he opened his eyes, she was half-way out the front door, fully dressed, with one of his bulky sweatshirts tied around her waist. The fabric of it almost caught in the door as she slammed it behind her.

***

Rey was going to pretend that nothing had happened – that she hadn’t bled through her underwear and onto his sheets in the middle of the night and then panicked like a thirteen-year-old – when she slunk back to his apartment with her tail and a pad between her legs. That was always her strategy when she was embarrassed: to pretend there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

There were two bars of chocolate stacked on the countertop. Next to the chocolate was two Motrin pills and a box of tampons. It wasn’t the brand of tampons she usually bought, but it was the thought that counted. “You bought me tampons?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t want you to have to run out the door like that ever again.”

Rey felt some resistance in her chest crumble when he said that. She’d been trying to ignore the fact that he was _boyfriend material_. This weird little gesture made it impossible to ignore. Buying tampons told her more about him than buying a dozen roses. She tucked her head under his chin, stepping into a hug she’d been waiting for all day. “You know this isn’t going to get you laid, right? It’s like _The Shining_ down there.”

“I wasn’t trying to get laid.” Ben pretended to be offended. “I’m an enlightened man. I mean, kind of enlightened. I had to ask some mom at Duane Reade what the difference between sport and normal tampons was.”

Rey laughed into his chest, wondering how he’d known that Motrin was better than Advil and that she liked Godiva chocolate more than Hershey’s. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you head.”

Ben drew away, looking truly offended now. “I wasn’t angling for head.”

“I know.” Rey stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. “That’s why you’re getting it.”

***

Ben started looking forward to Rey getting her period. If he played his cards right – rubbing her back, bringing her a hot water bottle, procuring chocolate ice cream at midnight from the bodega on her block – he was in blow job heaven for four or five days. Then, on the fifth or sixth day, she’d tackle him onto the couch, eager to pick up their regularly scheduled programming.

Rey looked forward to getting her period, too. It was a welcome reminder that she wasn’t pregnant. It was _reassuring,_ considering how much sex she was having. It was especially reassuring once they stopped using condoms and she put all her faith in a little white pill, taken every day at nine in the morning, or thereabouts. It was nerve-wracking not to see the proof that her contraception was working.

When her period didn’t come – six months after she’d started dating Ben and three months after she’d started taking the pill – Rey panicked. She sat up in bed at one in the morning, accidentally kicking Chewy in the ribs. “I didn’t get my period this week.”

“We’ll do it next week.” Ben yawned, still mostly asleep and uncomprehending.  

Rey smacked him in the shoulder and he made an undignified noise. She repeated herself, as if he was stupid. “I _didn’t get my period_ this week.”

Ben’s eyes popped open. “I’m sorry, what?”

***

While she was waiting for the results of her urine test at her doctor’s office, Rey texted Ben. She was being somewhat flip – a mistake, when emotions were ramped this high, she knew.

_If I’m pregnant, I’m having an abortion._

In three seconds flat, he responded. _If you’re pregnant, we’re having a conversation about it._

Ben never texted back that quickly, especially if he was at the office. Rey wondered whether he was pacing around his desk in nervous circles, waiting to heard the verdict. She frowned at her smartphone. _What’s to talk about?_ _It’s my uterus._

After a slightly longer silence, her phone buzzed again. _It’s our baby._

***

“Did you have an abortion?” Ben demanded, wild-eyed, when she came home from work. He was standing, hands on his hips, waiting for her. He had a key. She wasn’t surprised; she hadn’t answered any of his calls or texted him to tell him what the result of the urine test was.

She’d wandered around Brooklyn for an hour, instead, thinking about what could have been. Getting a negative result on the pregnancy test had been almost like a near-death experience. She’d seen her life flash before her eyes.

In retrospect, not answering her phone had been a mistake. She could see how he thought she’d gotten an abortion without having a conversation about it first. She had made a half-joking, panicked comment about it, after all. But she was also a little hurt that he thought she would do something so drastic unilaterally. “I’m not pregnant.”

All of the frenetic energy left his body, and he slumped. “Fuck, really?”

Incredulous, Rey chose to believe that he was slumping because he was relieved, not because he was disappointed. “My doctor said it’s not that unusual to stop getting your period on a low-dose pill.”

Ben’s nostrils flared. “You scared me.”

“You were scared?” Rey said, shortly, crossing her arms over her chest. The doctor’s office had been cold and terrifying. For a moment, her future had seemed terrifying, too. “ _I_ was the one who – ”

“I was scared you had an abortion.” Ben clarified, the resentment creeping back into his voice.

Rey made a soft, noncommittal noise. She intended to communicate that they should change the subject, that this subject was too sensitive. When he didn’t drop it – the set of his jaw didn’t change – she sighed. She thought she’d dodged this particular bullet along with a pregnancy, but obviously she hadn’t. “What conversation did you want to have?”

Ben planted his feet wide apart, as if bracing himself. He spoke quickly, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say all afternoon and had to spit it out before he lost his nerve. “I want to have kids – plural – in few years. But if we got pregnant before that, it would be okay – _no_ , it would be better than okay. It would be great. I would be happy about it.”

Rey sat down, heavily, on the couch. Chewy plodded over to rest his chin on her knee. She stroked his head, absently. Something about his wording bothered her. “We?”

Ben sat down next to her, not touching her. “I don’t want to just have kids with whatever woman I happen to be dating when I’m thirty-five.”

 “You want it to be me.” Rey realized. Ben shrugged, his cheeks pinking, and she could tell she’d embarrassed him. She felt badly. He was thirty-one, he shouldn’t have to be embarrassed that he wanted to have a family. She shouldn’t be embarrassed that he felt strongly about her. She leaned on his arm, and tried to be realistic, even though her heart was leaping in her chest with untoward excitement. “We might not even be dating when you’re thirty-five.”

“I hope we won’t be.” Ben said, in a low voice.

Startled, Rey leaned away. She thought, for a horrible second, that he was breaking up with her. She wouldn’t blame him, if he was serious about starting a family. She was young and admittedly reluctant to commit to anything that permanent. She’d wondered for weeks if he thought he was just wasting time with her because she might never settle down with him.

Ben met her eyes. He looked like he was daring her to walk away from him. “I hope we’re _married_ when I’m thirty-five.”

Rey leaned back into his side, sighing gustily. Chewy licked her fingers, and after a moment, Ben wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m twenty-three.”

“I’m thirty-one.” Ben countered, helplessly. “My biological clock is ticking.”

“Men don’t _have_ a biological clock.” Rey scoffed.

Ben grabbed her hand and pressed her palm flat to his chest, so she could feel his heartbeat. “Feel it?”

His heartbeat was steady and reassuring. It reminded her of the kind of man he was. Rey lunged forward, suddenly feeling immensely guilty that she was so afraid of marriage and children. He was a wonderful boyfriend – husband material, if she was honest with herself. Against his mouth, she told him, like she did almost every day, “I love you.”

“Tick, tick.” Ben repeated, nipping at her lower lip. She was forgiven, or at least, the tack of their conversation was changing. She could taste it in his mouth, in the way his body went limp under hers as she leaned further into him. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In-canon Rey really has a longing for family, but she's also extremely pragmatic. In this 'verse, I don't know that she would have gone through with an abortion, and she definitely wouldn't have without Ben's blessing. But I do think it would be her first, self-preserving instinct if she'd only been dating the father for six months and hadn't talked marriage or babies with him. 
> 
> P.S. Ben Solo is the type of boy who will buy you tampons without being asked. If that's not marriage material what is?
> 
> P.P.S. Up next... the first time they do kinky shit. Brace yourselves trash lords.


	5. The Kink Awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is the most embarassing, filthy, deviant thing I have ever written (and on a Sunday!).

Ben gave Rey a key after two and half months. That was a mistake. He came home one day to a breathy symphony of moans and sex sounds – _not_ Rey’s.

“Oh, fuck.” He said, standing in the doorway.

Rey didn’t even bother slamming his laptop closed and pretending she hadn’t been snooping on it. She didn’t pause the porn that was playing, either. She turned to face him, leaning on the back of the couch. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were an ass man.”

“That’s private.” Ben said, weakly. Porn was always private, in sense, but this kind of porn was _especially_ private. He’d been playing a certain part for weeks – the part of a _Nice Guy_. He didn’t just play the part on the streets, holding her hand and sending her flowers. He played the part in the sheets, too. He bit his tongue every time the urge to say something filthy in her ear nearly overcame him. He spent a lot of time in the missionary position – his arms were putting on muscle because of it – or spooning. Like a gentleman, he made sure her orgasm _always_ came first.

“You left the tab open.” Rey told him, her eyebrows nearly in her hairline. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Four tabs, actually. You like bondage and butt stuff?”

Ben’s face burned from his chin to his ears to his hairline. He shuddered to think what was on the other tabs. “I’m not a pervert, I was just browsing – oh Jesus, tell me you didn’t look at my search history.”

Rey burst out laughing. “Can I?”

“No!” Ben lunged for the laptop and slammed it shut. The sex sounds stopped and it was suddenly painfully quiet. He ran his hand through his hair, frantically. “I… uh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Good talk. Yeah.”

Rey fell back onto the sofa in a fit of giggles. “Do you have a sex dungeon? Like a sex Bat Cave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Rent is too high for that.” Ben huffed, holding the laptop to his chest. He didn’t tell her about his _drawer_ – the one that was right under his sock drawer.

Rey’s lips twitched impishly. “Yeah, okay, Ben. Or should I call you _Daddy_? Are you into that?”

“Don’t kink-shame me.” Ben sniffed, ignoring the twitch in his pants when she said that word. He tucked his laptop into his desk drawer, though he briefly considered throwing it out the window for good measure.

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means.” Rey teased. “You didn’t even know what Tinder was for.”

“I’m hungry.” Ben interrupted, now wondering whether he should throw _himself_ out the window. Instead, he changed the subject. “Let’s eat.”

“Smooth.” Rey deadpanned.

Ben pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about, loudly banging the pots and pans. “Chicken sound good?”

***

Thirty minutes later Rey said, as she was suggesting they try a new restaurant, or go see a romantic comedy – as if it was no big deal, “We could have butt sex if you want.”

Ben almost choked on his chicken cacciatore. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right – he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to be thinking straight. “Excuse me?”

Rey circled the kitchen island and smacked his back, vigorously, until he waved her off, reaching for his drink.

“Fuck – Jesus, I’m not choking, Rey.” He managed, his eyes watering.

“Are you into _that_ , too?” Rey teased.

Ben spat out his chicken. “No! Okay, _yes_ , I am, but I am _not_ choking you out or sticking it in your ass.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. She pouted a little. “You won’t even talk dirty with me.”

“That’s not true.” Ben mumbled. “I talk in bed.”

“Telling me I’m beautiful doesn’t count.”

“It’s true though.”

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Rey reprimanded him. She grinned nonetheless at the compliment.

Ben groaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

Rey’s smile faded and she looked self-conscious. Carefully, she asked, “It’s embarrassing that you want to do things like that?”

“Yes.” Ben put his head in his hands.

“You just don’t want to do those things with _me_.” Now, she sounded hurt.

Ben lifted his head, horrified. “No, I – shit, it’s not like that. I want to put it in your ear or your ass or your belly button or _wherever_ you’ll let me, and I’ll say whatever you want in bed. I just…”

“You just _what_?” Rey looked baffled.

“I don’t think you’re… ready.” He said, lamely.

It was the wrong thing to say. Rey’s eyes flashed. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m mature enough?”

“No!” Ben rushed to correct her. He wasn’t quite sure how this evening had gone from bad to _worse_ , but it had. “Not _that._ I’m just not comfortable asking you to do that kind of thing if we’re not… in a trusting, committed relationship. I want you to feel safe.”

Rey looked even more confused. “I trust you, Ben.”

“Are we in a committed relationship?” Ben prodded, seeing an opportunity and pressing his advantage. On their first date, almost three months ago, she’d told him she wasn’t looking for anything serious. He was serious about her after their second date. This was his chance to see if _she_ was serious about him.

Rey bit her lip. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else, if that’s what you mean.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Ben told her, pointedly. They'd already had _that_  conversation when they'd stopped using condoms. He’d been angling to have _this_ conversation for weeks. She’d evaded it, and he’d let her, for too long.

Rey squirmed. _She_ turned red. Finally, she said, scowling in that cute insincere way that meant she wasn’t actually annoyed, “We’re in a committed relationship.”

Ben smiled, pleased with himself. “Okay.”

Rey exhaled, exasperated. “Can we have sex now?”

“Don’t you want to finish your dinner?” Ben laughed.

Rey shook her head, her teeth biting into the meat of her lower lip stubbornly. Her eyes were dilating rapidly. “Uh-uh.”

For some reason, those two syllables _got_ to him. His reluctance melted away. She was precious to him, and he’d been treating her like something precious, not wanting to offend or scare her. But if she was foregoing food – and Rey never skipped a meal – she wanted this. At the very least, she was curious.

He took a deep breath and let it out in increments. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to bed, then.”

Rey blinked at him, and for a moment, he thought he’d horribly miscalculated. Then, she knelt, pivoted, stuck her firm little ass in the air, and started to crawl across his hardwood floors. Ben stood up and followed her, walking slowly, heel to toe. He almost tripped and killed himself, his gaze fixed on her.

He wondered if her knees would be bruised or dusty in the morning. The thought made blood rush to his cock; he took two long steps and bent over, hooking his hands under her armpits and lifting her up. She squeaked in surprised as he tossed her onto the bed on her hands and knees.

“No, stay on your knees.” Ben barely recognized his voice. It wasn’t a voice he’d ever used around her. He’d been compartmentalizing this part of himself.

Reaching up under her skirt, he yanked her panties down her thighs. With one hand, he held the fabric of her dress out of his way, and with the other, he braced himself as he ducked down to press his tongue into her cunt, without warning. Her little squeal was reward enough; the rush of moisture onto his chin and nose was just icing.

He’d eaten her out plenty of times, but never from behind. He knew he was good at it – and he wasn’t just being cocky – because she wasn’t the type to fake it. She loved when he licked and sucked at her clitoris, so he did that now, ignoring how she twitched and made indignant noises when his tongue or nose slid a little farther back than she was used to.

Her embarrassment forgotten, her thighs trembled against his shoulders as she climaxed. Ben stopped licking – his work there was done and well done –  and pressed his face against the soft globes of her ass. He bit into each in turn as he rose up onto his knees behind her, his chin slick. Her cheeks fit perfectly in each hand. He gripped them, wanting to leave claw marks, and then spread them apart, exposing the purplish pink valley between them. The tight little pucker in it puckered even _more_ tightly, as if it was embarrassed.

“Ben.” She was panting softly. 

Sticking his foremost finger into his mouth, Ben sucked it hard. Confused by the sound, Rey looked over her shoulder. She was panting softly, looking dazed and a little nervous. Her eyes – blown out by her orgasm – widened when he took the wet finger out of his mouth with a little pop.

Maintaining eye contact – that should _not_ have been as hot as it was – Ben trailed his finger down the beautiful line bisecting her ass, leaving a damp trail. He nudged the tip of it against the knot of muscle he’d found earlier. It flexed, anxiously. “Trust me?”

“Trust you.” She confirmed, dropping her head down into her pillow. As she did, her hips arched back to him, and he eased in to the knuckle, watching with fascination. “Oh. Oh. _Ooh_.”

Working his knuckle in small circles, he sunk his finger in deeper, his breath catching in his throat. The newness of this for her made doing it so much sexier than doing it with an experienced partner. It felt new for _him_ again. The thrill of experimentation made his abdomen tight.

“I think your cock is too big for this.” Rey’s voice was muffled by the pillow as he finger-fucked her. She sounded drunk.

Ben grinned at the back of her head, tickled pink to hear her say that. “I mean, I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise.”

She had a good point, though. She was so small, and everything about him was so big, even his finger. Lubricant would help make up the difference – but hopefully not enough to make her stop talking about how big his dick was. He wanted to hear that over and over.

Planting a loud, affectionate kiss on her rump, Ben eased his finger out of her tight clench and went to the bedside table. He retrieved the bottle of lube that was in there – thankful he hadn’t hidden it away with some of the things he was more ashamed of – and squirted it on his fingers, scissoring them in the air and getting them all sticky. Flopping down on the mattress beside her, he patted his lower belly with his clean hand, his slick one propped up in the air.

Rey kicked off her panties, crawled over, and started to straddle him, her dress bunched around her hips. He stopped her, with Herculean effort, when his cock was a half-inch inside her. “Face the other way.”

Her obedience was intoxicating. Nothing made him feel more like a man than giving orders – it was probably a character flaw. She sunk down onto him, the muscles of both her cunt and her lower back clenching. As she rocked her ass tightened and extended back towards him rhythmically. Ben moistened his lips, hypnotized.

The arch of her back as he pressed two fingers into her ass was something he wanted to memorize in case he never got to do this again. He could feel his cock through the soft, wet layers of muscle inside her as she kept rocking on him, clenching around his gentle fingers. Ben curled his digits, lazily, and she made a strangled noise of pleasure. That gave him an idea. Sitting up, he pressed his chest against her back and wrapped his other hand around her throat. He held the column of it very loosely, lost in lust but no so lost to do this without permission.

She nodded, her jaw bumping his fingers, as she bounced harder on his cock, clenching his fingers tighter in her ass. His wrist was at an impossibly awkward angle now, but he didn’t care. “Do it.”

Exhilarated, Ben tightened his grip ever-so-slightly. Fresh moisture flooded the tops of his thighs. She gasped, her pulse fluttered against his thumb.

“Come for me?” He huffed, in her ear. _That_ would be the ultimate thing.

Rey shook her head, her whole body convulsing gently. “Harder.”

The way that word wheezed out, desperately, made him throb. He wasn’t sure what she wanted harder – his fingers, his dick, his grip on her throat – but he wanted to give her everything at once. He did, and she moaned, the vibrations of it running down his arm like shockwaves.

“Come on, baby.” Ben moaned. He was desperately close, now. This was too erotic and overwhelming to last much longer.

Rey scrabbled at his fingers on her neck and he let go of her as if he’d burned himself. He hadn’t been holding tight enough to cut off her air or bruise her, but his guilt cut through him like a sword, nonetheless. He suddenly wasn’t worried about coming before her. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Panting, Rey turned to face him. “Shut up.”

“What?” Ben blinked at her.

Red-faced – and not just from arousal – Rey reached around him for the bottle of lube. With shaky, eager fingers, she smoothed a palmful of it onto his cock, even though it was already slick with precum and her juices. Satisfied, she turned around, sat back on her folded legs, and wriggled her ass against him. It was clear what she hinting at – she wasn’t very subtle.

Ben found himself facing an existential crisis. She’d never done this before; he was sure of it. “I’m not sure…”

“Put it in me, Ben.” Rey huffed over her shoulder.

Ben hesitated for a moment longer. Then, he lunged for the bottle of lube. He smeared the substance all over the cleft of her ass, reveling in how filthy it felt to do that. His cock slipped up and down the crease a few times as he tried to position himself, and then the tip caught on her well-worked ring of muscle.

This time, it didn’t flutter nervously. It stretched and contracted around the head as he patiently worked his very impatient cock inside. Embarrassed by how close he was to coming, Ben leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder.  

“You’re  _so_ big.” She whispered, voice strained. 

“This is only three inches.” He confessed, his breath tickling her skin.

Rey giggled. It was an odd sound for such a charged moment. As she laughed, her muscles went lax around him, and the rest of his shaft slid into her with surprising ease, now that he’d cleared the tight pucker. His wiry-haired groin brushed her bottom, and her giggles cut off, sharply.

“We can stop.” Ben managed to say, even as he prayed, _please, please, don’t ask me to stop._

Wordlessly, Rey grasped one of his hands and drew it around her body, pushing it between her legs. As if this could make up for the discomfort he was sure he’d caused her, and for how sore and stretched out she’d be in the morning, Ben thrummed at her sex, rotating his hips. He was afraid to push in and out of her, afraid he’d split her open.

Rey tilted her head back onto his shoulder, her mouth falling open. She arched and rocked back against him, making undignified little noises. She was soaking wet, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

“You love this.” Ben realized, aloud. He _knew_ this hurt the first time; he’d been told as much before. She loved it anyways. She was moaning for him. “You little _deviant_.”

If she was embarrassed, she didn’t let on. She thrashed back against him as he worked her clit, clenching so tightly he saw stars. “I love it. I love it. I’m coming, I’m coming, I – ”

“Me too.” Ben groaned, past the point of eloquence. He didn’t need to thrust and pound the way his primal instincts told him to. Her tight little ass gripping him as she orgasmed was unbearably pleasurable. He _couldn’t_ bear it any longer. He came harder than he ever had in his life, his belly twitching against her back.

***

The next time they had sex, it was at her place. Nuzzling into his neck as she rocked on top of him, Rey asked, “Want to try anal again?”

Whatever gods there were smiled upon him, Ben decided. He hadn't been sure she’d ask again. She’d walked a little funny after the first time.

“Uh… yes.” _A thousand times yes._

Rey pressed a sloppy kiss to his nose and then crawled across the mattress. She fished around in her bedside table and pulled out a dildo – a respectably sized pink one.

Ben’s eyes must have bugged out of his head when he realized where she meant to _put_ it, because her face split into a mischievous, shit-eating grin. She looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t help but laugh along with her, albeit nervously.  

He’d awakened a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Ben Solo, "don't kink shame me!" 
> 
> ... just kidding, I am ashamed of myself. This was way out of my comfort zone, even though I don't shy away from weird, uncomfortable, or just plain awkward sex. We'll return to our regularly scheduled fluff tomorrow.


	6. Twelve Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: I literally just incorporated a lot of them.

Rey ignored Ben’s call at 4:59 p.m. The work day wasn’t technically over yet, and she tried not to take personal calls during it – or rather, she tried not to take phone calls that would make her grin like a goon and get funny looks. He called again, two minutes later. As she reached for her phone, she wondered whether she’d accidentally stood him up for a date. Then remembered – it was Tuesday.

“I’m working late.” She told him, when he asked her what she was doing that night.

“But it’s our monthaversary.”

“Our _what_?” Rey twirled her phone cord.

Ben’s voice was low and slow and patient and made her tummy tie itself in knots. “Our first date was a month ago today.”

Rey swiveled her chair to look at her Humane Society kitten calendar, her brow creasing. She scanned the days and realized that he was right, in a sense. “That wasn’t even a date.”

“It _was_ a date.” That was a long-standing point of contention. “That makes today our monthaversary.”

“That’s not even a word.” Rey protested.

“It is.” Ben insisted, stubbornly.

“It’s not a _thing_.”

“It _is_ a thing.”

“Well, it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Rey blurted out. Ben fell silent. She could tell she’d hurt him – not just embarrassed him, but hurt him. She exhaled heavily into the mouthpiece of her phone. “I – .”

“Don’t.” The melted, caramel tone of his voice hardened and became harsh enough to break teeth. “I’ll eat the fucking prime rib myself.”

Her guilt ate her up as the sun set. By the time it was dark, she couldn’t stand it. She left the office without finishing her project, disgusted by how totally _useless_ her feelings made her. 

When he opened the door of his apartment, the warm air that wafted out into the industrial, modern hallway smelled amazing – like beef and potatoes and red wine sauce. “You cooked?”

“I can cook.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t invite her in. His ears were pink and he kept looking at his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“You _don’t_ cook.”

“I do on special occasions.” Ben told her, stiffly. She could tell he was still upset, but that he felt they weren’t comfortable enough with each other to have a full-on drag-out fight.

Rey didn’t want to fight, either. She withdrew her arm from behind her back and showed him the bottle of champagne she’d impulsively bought at the liquor store on the corner, letting her conscience trump her budget-consciousness. “Like monthaversaries?”

***

Rey, unsentimental to a fault, hoped Ben would forget about their second monthaversary. He didn’t. He sent her an embarrassing array of flowers and took her to an expensive dinner.

“You like it?” He asked her, over sushi that looked more like art than food.

“I like your special occasion prime rib better.” Rey confessed, around a mouthful of sashimi. “But most people don’t consider two months a special occasion.”

“They don’t.” Ben agreed, sipping his cocktail. He set it down and reached for her hands across the table. “That’s the point. Everyone else only celebrates the important dates. I want to celebrate the little things.”

Rey ducked her head, feeling her neck flush with pleasure. She’d never had anyone pursue her so unabashedly, and it still warmed her skin. She picked up her glass and held it in front of her face, shyly, to hide her smile.

Ben plinked his cocktail against hers. “Here’s to…”

“Two months.” Rey supplied.

“Our two monthaversary.” Ben corrected her.

Rey laughed. “I _still_ don’t think that’s a word.”

***

Ben, ever the dutiful boyfriend – she’d started referring to him as her boyfriend –  made prime rib again on their third monthaversary. He slid tickets across the table to her – not tickets to a high-minded play or the ballet, but tickets to a hockey game.

Rey was better prepared, this time. She knew better than to think he’d forget the day, and she was too embarrassed to let him spoil her. She made him a cake – chocolate, with coconut ice-cream and raspberry filling. She’d slaved over it for hours. It was no good, but Ben didn’t tell her that. He gamely ate two slices, chewing very slowly and drinking a lot of milk between bites.

It wasn’t the taste of the cake that mattered; it was what she’d scrawled in icing across the top of it: _happy third monthaversary._

***

Rey would have forgiven Ben for forgetting their fourth monthaversary. He was in California, helping his mother wade through his father’s things after the funeral. He didn’t forget, and at first, that made her smile. Then, it made her blush furiously.

“Lingerie?” Rey peered into the open flaps of carboard box that had been left on her doorstep. She fingered the pretty, lacy thing. “How can you even be thinking about sex at a time like this?”

Ben’s wry humor was palpable through the phone line. “People have sex after natural disasters and elections, why not funerals?”

Rey laughed, even though it felt wrong when his father was dead and she wasn’t there to hold his hand. “I don’t know if a black lace corset screams _comfort sex_.”

Ben’s voice went low, and she heard a door shut. She realized he’d gone into a different room. “Will you comfort me, Rey?”

Rey’s throat suddenly felt thick. It was very warm in her apartment without air conditioning. Her voice came out in a low, inappropriately aroused rattle. “Yes.”

Ben exhaled slowly, pleased. “Put it on and touch yourself.”

***

They didn’t celebrate their fifth monthaversary. They had a fight. In a black mood, Rey took Chewie out for a long walk to clear her head.

Ben found her on the promenade, out of breath and flustered. He took her in her arms before she could protest. Chewie sniffed their feet, curiously. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Rey’s voice was muffled into his sweaty chest. “How long have you been out searching for me?”

Ben crushed her closer. He kissed the top of her head, over and over. “My whole life.”

***

 “This is too expensive.” Rey protested, when Ben clasped her sixth monthaversary gift around her neck – a delicate gold chain suspending a pearl and a diamond clustered asymmetrically together. “I bought you a book, for God’s sake.”

“I love that book.” Ben hummed, kissing the nape of her neck. His lips were very warm and dry on the bump of bone there, the top vertebrae of her spine. “And you. I love you, too.”

***

Ben wrote _terrible_ poetry.

She’d demanded that he not spend _any money_ on the seventh monthaversary. He didn’t. He wrote her a poem. It was cheesy, and questionably rhyming.

It made her cry.

***

Their eighth monthaversary felt different. It was odd to go on a date, getting dressed up and pretending to be surprised, when they lived together. Instead, they stayed in. Rey quipped that they were becoming a boring, old, married couple.

To prove that they weren’t _boring_ – he liked hearing her say the word married and he hoped they would be one day –  Ben showed her his secret drawer.

***

After nine months, Ben tried to teach Rey to make the prime rib. It was his mother’s recipe, he explained. His voice was warm as he talked about how Leia, his mother, rarely cooked – but that when she did, it was memorable.

The prime rib was what she’d always made for his father’s birthday. Rey listened to him talk about the flaky, buttery meat, the pools of salty gravy, and his parents. She propped her chin on her fist as he cut the beef into succulent slices, and wondered whether she would ever cook a special meal for her husband, year in and year out, to show him that she cared. She couldn’t cook, and she wasn’t sure she would ever have a husband.

***

They went upstate for their tenth monthaversary – it fell on a weekend. They holed up in a cabin in the Finger Lakes and celebrated quietly, and then passionately and loudly, in front of the fireplace. Rey considered the great outdoors her church and wanted to go hiking. Ben would have humored her, even though he hated poison ivy and snakes and being outside of cell tower reception. Somehow, though, they never made it out of bed or off the floor or out of the bathtub.

Rey caught him, naked and exhausted, looking at her as if he was afraid she wasn’t real, when he was supposed to be sleeping.

***

Eleven months felt like a twentieth birthday – it was just a precursor to the one-year mark. They made sweet, slow love in the morning and went to a boozy brunch, even though it was a week day. It was a special occasion, after all.

***

Before Rey left for work, Ben kissed her, soundly, on the mouth, dipping her back and digging his fingers into her hair. It was too passionate a kiss for two people who were admittedly _not_ morning people to exchange over coffee and the jingle of keys in the morning.  “You know what today is?”

“Our first _real_ anniversary?” Rey teased. He’d slopped some coffee on her shoes as he’d kissed her.

“It’s all been real to me, my love.” Ben grabbed a kitchen towel and bent one knee to wipe off her feet so the leather wouldn’t be ruined.

Rey laughed fondly, stroking the top of his head. “Can we just start counting the years now?”

Still kneeling, Ben looked sharply up at her. His eyes went glassy and soft, and she realized what she’d said. _Years._ Plural. He looked so happy – so perfectly happy – at the prospect of _years_ , and he was down on one knee. Her heart stuttered. “You didn’t buy me a ring for our twelfth monthaversary, did you?”

“Why do you ask?” Ben’s smiled faded.

Rey gave him a look and tried to make light of the situation. “You’ve been escalating.”

Slowly, Ben stood. He towered over her but that was somehow less intimidating than him being down on one knee. He slung the towel over his shoulder. “No, I didn’t buy you a ring for our twelfth monthaversary.”

Relieved, and embarrassed that she’d even asked – she didn’t even _want_ a ring, she scolded herself – Rey stood on her tip-toes and pecked him on the mouth. It was a much more appropriate goodbye kiss, and she whispered the word itself as she touched her nose to his.

Ben waited for Rey to leave the apartment, and then went into the bedroom. He rifled around in his dresser. In his sock drawer, bundled inside a pair of wool grey dress socks for good measure, was a little velvet box. He popped it open with one hand, and the light from the sunrise caught on the round diamond nestled inside the satin lining, mounted on a twisted band.

He hadn’t lied to Rey – he hadn’t bought the engagement ring for their twelfth monthaversary. He’d bought it for their _tenth_ monthaversary. It had been sitting in his sock drawer ever since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said fluff and I meant it! 
> 
> P.S. Sorry for that foray into kink. There might be another if I work up my courage again. 
> 
> P.P.S. But not in the next chapter... because in that chapter, we're doin' angst.


	7. Goodbye

“Chewie, potty time.” Rey said, in a sing-song voice, as she shoved her winter boots on, tucking the legs of her pajama pants into them. It was that time of year when the snow was in the air but not on the ground yet. She didn’t hear the tell-tale jingle of the dog’s collar, and her heart sunk. “Chewie?”

The dog wagged his tail, but didn’t stand up. His brown eyes looked very tired – not sleepy, but tired. Rey sunk onto her knees next to him, and stroked his graying golden head.

Chewie been geriatric when Ben had cajoled Rey into taking him in. As she’d grown to adore him, he’d grown older. Ben blamed his aching joints and lethargy on the cold weather. Rey knew better. Chewie had bone cancer in his hips, and dogs didn’t live forever.

She went to the door and picked up the leash, wiggling it enticingly. Chewie sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. Through her teeth, Rey whispered, “No, no, no.”

Eyes pricking, she went to the kitchen and got some peanut butter, scooping some onto her finger. Chewie still didn’t get up. Crying, she let him eat it off of her finger, curling up on the floor next to him. Peanut butter was his _favorite_ thing. When he didn’t lick her finger clean, she knew.

***

When Ben came home, Rey wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his sternum. Ben patted her back, absently. “Chewie?”

Rey touched his face, curling her fingers around the line of his jaw. Her voice cracked, which was ridiculous – this wasn’t even _her_ dog. “Ben, I think it’s time to make that appointment.”

Ben’s head jerked. He looked like she’d suggested he shoot Chewie himself. “No.”

“Ben, it isn’t fair to let him suffer.” Rey argued, helplessly. She’d tried to broach this topic before. The first time, when Chewie hadn’t been able to make it down the stairs and had had an accident, Ben had changed the subject abruptly. The second time, he’d been enraged and stomped out of the apartment, leaving her to clean up the mess.

Ben’s mouth quivered. For a moment, he looked very young, though he was eight years her senior. “I’m not ready.”

Rey looked over at Chewie. He hadn’t come to meet his master at the door for days, though not for lack of pathetic trying. Ben _was_ his master, now. It had taken Chewie months to get over Han’s death, but he thought Ben hung the stars. It was killing him, she knew, to not be able to run to the door and lick his fingers, tail wagging. “But he is, Ben.”

Ben knelt next to Chewie’s cushion, stroking his heard. He didn’t reply. Rey thought he might cry. She hated crying. She hated death. But to spare Ben pain, she would do almost anything. “I’ll take him to the appointment.”

“No.” Ben’s shoulders squared under his dress shirt. He swiped at his eyes with his cuff, and then stood and turned to face her. He was a picture of masculine stoicism – unflinching, unfeeling. “No, I’ll take him.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Rey asked, wishing he wasn’t standing so tall and straight. She wanted to hold him, count his ribs with her fingers, kiss his collarbone. She'd never seen him cry - not even over his father's sudden death. 

“No.” Ben said, shortly. He crossed the room and picked up his cell phone, flicking through it as if he was ordering a pizza and not scheduling the dreaded appointment.

“You don’t have to go in the room.” Rey said, after a moment.

“Yeah, I do.” Ben’s voice cracked, and then he was gruff again. “He shouldn’t have to be alone.”

***

Rey covered Chewie’s head in kisses and fed him a cheeseburger. She let him sleep in the bed – lifting him up bodily with a grunt –  their sex life be damned. She wanted to spoil him. Ben acted like nothing was wrong.

In the morning, he took the leash off the hook and said, with a low whistle, “Let’s go for a walk, boy.”

Chewie tried to wag his tail, but he didn’t get up.

Ben chewed his lip for a moment. “Come on, boy.”

Chewie just looked at him, mournfully.

Heavily, Ben crossed the floor and knelt, heaving the golden retriever into his arms. He straightened up with a soft, almost pained noise. Rey fluttered next to him. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got him.” Chewie managed to wag his tail; it smacked Rey in the arm. “I’ve got you, boy.”

***

Rey tried to pretend that Ben and Chewie were just out on a walk. She paced the apartment, chewing her nails. She vacuumed half of the living room, and the stopped, abruptly, when she realized she was vacuuming up golden piles of hair, erasing evidence of the dog that had lived in her apartment for seven months. She unplugged the vacuum and sat stiffly on couch.

When Ben came home, the leash swung limply in his hand. He didn’t address her. He walked over to the cabinet and took out a bottle of expensive whiskey. He’d taken it from his father’s liquor cabinet after his funeral. He never touched it, and out of respect, Rey didn’t either.

Now, he poured himself a glass of whiskey neat. Holding it in two fingers, he wandered aimlessly over to the couch and sat, heavily, staring at the liquor.

 They were sitting just out of reach of each other. Rey watched a little muscle twitch in his cheek, rapidly and more rapidly, and wished she knew what to say or do. No one had ever comforted her through life’s tragedies, so she didn’t know how to comfort him.

“I never got to say goodbye.” Ben said, finally, his voice horribly high-pitched. He put his hand over his mouth as he started to cry, great, dry heaving noises coming from deep in his chest. Rey stared at him, confused. He'd insisted on going into the room with Chewie for the last few moments. Then, she realized that he wasn't talking about Chewie. 

“Oh, Ben.” Rey threw herself across the couch and wrapped her arms around him. He clutched at her, dropping the whiskey onto the floor. Neither of them moved to clean it up for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was not the angst you were looking for. I'm bawling my eyes out. 
> 
> P.S. Up next... would you rather see the first time they have sex, something a little more sinful, meeting the parents, or the first time they say "I love you?"


	8. Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: first time sex. 
> 
> Bonus: Ben is a huge nerd.

Rey sat at her desk, rubbing her thighs together under her pencil skirt. They were sticky by seven o’clock.

She took the elevator downstairs to Ben met Rey on the curb, two minutes after seven o’clock. When it dinged on the first floor, she loitered for another six minutes, riding the elevator up and down. She didn’t want to be right on time. That was a cardinal rule of hers – never to let on that she was excited to see someone.

She was excited, though. Her panties were wet and bunched up.  It had been a few months since she’d deigned to respond to a Tinder message and bantered enough to get to this point.

The tall man waved, awkwardly, through the glass door in the lobby. Rey wasn’t sure whether she should kiss his cheek or hug him or shake his hand. That all felt oddly formal for what they were about to do. She asked, bluntly, instead, “Your place or mine?”

Ben didn’t hesitate. He leaned over – he had to lean comically far – and kissed her cheek. “This place called Roberta’s.”

“You said this wasn’t a date.” She reproached him.

“It isn’t.” Ben looked perfectly innocent. “I just hate having sex on an empty stomach.”

Rey laughed out loud, startled that he too was blunt and socially awkward. “Okay.”

***

They were going to have sex – Ben could feel it with near certainty – but he ordered wine rather than beer or liquor with dinner anyways. Wine was for romance, but it reliability loosened him up. He finished his first glass by the time their dinner was served.

Rey picked at her salmon. “Do you do this often?”

“Sex?” Ben laughed. It was a nice laugh; it never gave the impression that he was laughing _at_ her. “I did it more in my twenties.”

“How old are you?”:

“Thirty.” He took a sip of his wine, starting to feel a little bold. “What about you?”

“I’ve had sex with five or six people.”

Ben laughed, startled. “I meant, how old are you? But if we’re going _there_ , I’ve had sex with a lot more than five or six people.”

“I’m twenty-three.” Rey grinned. “Are you clean?”

“Yes.” Ben responded, automatically. He was; when he’d turned thirty and decided to get serious about finding a wife, he’d gotten tested for everything under the sun. “You?”

“Yes.” Rey leaned over the table and speared a piece of his kebab with her fork, bringing it to her mouth. By way of explanation, she said, impishly, “Since this isn’t a date, we don’t have to be on our best behavior.”

Ben chewed his lip, a guilty little thrill running down his belly and straight to his groin. He’d sworn he was done with this – with having sex on first or second dates, with offering to pay for cab fare in the morning, with saying he’d call never intending to. Casual sex was all well and good but it wouldn’t help him find The One.

Rey leaned back over the table and stole more food. It was the kind of thing long-time lovers did – eating off each other’s plates without permission, not caring whether they chewed delicately or ate too much. It made him smile, a warm sensation in his stomach.

Perhaps he was just a hopeless romantic – or an eternal optimist – but he thought she could be The One. He leaned over and took some of her salmon, saying, after he’d chewed it, “I’d like to see you on your worst behavior.”

***

“Do you have a condom?” Rey asked, as he unlocked the door to his apartment. She had one, tucked in her purse.

“Yes.” Ben held the door open for her, gesturing her in with an endearingly awkward sweep of his arm. Rey wondered whether he’d been a Boy Scout – _always prepared._ He seemed like the type. He seemed like a goody-two-shoes. Somehow that made the idea of having wild sex with him even hotter. “I don’t _think_ its expired.”

“Been a while?” Rey teased, pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t put up a fight about wearing a condom. A couple of her partners – or men who might have been her partners if they had been more considerate – had whined that they _hated_ condoms, once she had the mandatory, businesslike conversation about communicable diseases. They assumed she was on the pill. She wasn’t. She liked the idea of there being some sort of barrier between her and whoever she was having sex with. She liked knowing there wouldn’t be any consequences. It made intercourse a little less intimate.

“A little while.” Ben agreed, shutting the door behind her. “Can I get you a drink – actually, do you want a glass of water? You had a half-bottle of wine at dinner.”

“I’m a big girl.” Rey raised her brow. “And you had the other half.”

“I’m bigger.” Ben grinned. His half-bottle didn’t seem to have affected him much. “You look like a lightweight and I don’t have sex with drunk women.”

“I’m not a lightweight, and I’m not drunk.” Rey stepped closer to him. He tilted his chin to look down at her, tucking his hands politely in his pockets. He looked nervous, suddenly. “You don’t need to pop a pill, do you, old man?”

“I’ve had a boner since my second glass of wine.” Ben admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning, bashfully. “And thirty isn’t that old.”

Rey stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. He was too tall for her to kiss him the way she wanted to – forcefully, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and sucking on that full bottom lip. If he didn’t bend down to meet her halfway, she could only brush her mouth against his.

 Ben met her halfway, and then some. His hands settled into the dip at the small of her back, drawing her closer. She stepped onto his shoes, using the inch-and-a-half height advantage to wrap her arms around his neck.

He tasted like wine and he kissed like he was twenty, not thirty. He didn’t complain about her weight on his feet. Slowly, he began to walk across the room, lifting his feet carefully. Rey had seen middle-aged fathers do this with their young daughters. It always made her heart ache. No one had ever been so silly and tender with her.

When the backs of her knees hit the edge of his mattress, Rey sat down, slowly, leaning back on one hand and looking up at him. With her other hand, she reached for his belt. He stood, docile, and let her unbuckle it. The sound of his zipper’s teeth separating was very loud in the silence of his dim bedroom. It seemed to remind him of something.

 “Wait, wait, wait.” Ben closed his hand over hers. Underneath their fingers, she could feel his cock throbbing through his underwear. “Let me put my sex playlist on.”

Rey snorted before she remembered how unsexy that sound was. “You have a sex playlist?”

Ben leaned over and kissed the top of her head with a loud smack. “You laugh, but you’re about to have a quality orgasm.”

He crossed the room and turned on a Bluetooth speaker, taking his phone out of his pocket and fiddling around with it. After a moment, low, sensual folk music filled the silence. It was a song Rey had heard before – the lyrics weren’t necessarily supposed to be sexy, but the singer had a deep, drunk-sounding voice, and the beat was low, slow thrum.

It was a _great_ sex song, Rey conceded. Ben leaned back on his dresser, watching her as she listened to it. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze predatory.

“Do you put this playlist on for all the girls you sleep with?” Rey asked, during the chorus – if there really was a chorus, the song seemed to wander aimlessly, just like lazy, slow sex should.

“Um…” Ben’s cheeks colored. He let out a short, self-deprecating chuckle. “Yes?”

Rey shifted, crossing and uncrossing her legs. To diffuse his obvious embarrassment, she joked, “To drown out the sex noises?”

“Oh, I want to hear your sex noises.” Ben pushed away from the dresser and walked slowly towards the bed, hands in his pockets.

“I’m not loud in bed.” Rey told him. It was true; she wasn’t as uninhibited as she’d like to be. She always got nervous.

His lips twitched as he stood over her. “We’ll see.”

Rey blinked up at him, wondering whether he was waiting for her to pull his cock out and suck on it – his pants were still unzipped, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea of giving oral sex.

It turned out that _he_ wasn’t opposed to giving oral sex, either. He took his hands out of his pockets and bent double, setting them on her knees, and then crouched between her thighs. Exhaling heavily, Rey lay back on the bed, tugging her skirt up to her waist and wiggling around to get comfortable.

She heard a soft laugh from somewhere between her thighs. He licked a stripe up from the side of her knee to the lace of her panties, and then nibbled at the fabric of them. His nose bumped at her sex through the material.

Impatient, Rey tugged her panties down her hips, curling her body up to ease them down her legs. Now, Ben laughed in earnest, bracing the ball of her foot on his shoulder. He unwound the panties from around her ankles and gave her a little smile that was far too affectionate for someone he’d just met. Then, he bent his head down and gave her the best head of her _life._

He had a beautiful mouth, and it did beautiful things to her. He was sloppy and then precise, kissing her cunt and then flicking gently at her clit. His breath flooded her sex with humidity, rhythmically. She felt a trickle of her own wetness traverse the crease between her thigh and her ass, and he licked it up.

“Oh, fuck.” She said, through gritted teeth, when his fingertip nudged at her. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be on your best behavior, remember?” Ben teased, rubbing his nose in her trimmed public hair. “You can say _fuck_.”

He curled his finger inside her and sucked hard on her clit, and she said it again. The word broke into a wail as she came desperately fast and hard, her hips spasming and thighs cramping.

Pushing her skirt up higher, Ben kissed her belly button very tenderly. “You liar. You are loud in bed.”

Rey laughed, breathlessly and self-consciously. “Fuck.”

Ben played the zipper of her skirt. It was supposed to be at the back of the garment; she’d writhed so much it had twisted around to the front of her body. “Do you still want to?”

“Fuck?” Rey repeated, this time as a question. She wasn’t sure why he was asking – in the afterglow of her orgasm, she would have let him do anything. Well, anything except raw her. “Go get a condom.”

Ben kissed her hip bone good-naturedly and stood up, peeling his shirt off. He disappeared into the bathroom. Rey got naked; when he came back, he was naked too. He left the bathroom light on and the door to the bathroom open, flooding the bedroom with warm light.

“You’re gorgeous.” He told her, as he tore open the foil packet.

“You’re big.” Rey couldn’t think of anything else to say. She stared, dumbly, at his member. Judging from its red, engorged state and the tacky, dripping mess on its tip, he _had_ had a boner since his second glass of wine.  

Ben threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Bigger than the other five or six guys you’ve slept with?”

“Yes.” Rey admitted, scooting back on the bed so that her head rested on the pillows.

“You’re more gorgeous than any other woman I’ve slept with.” Ben told her, sincerely, kneeling on the foot of the bed and rolling on the condom, pinching the tip of it first. With one hand, he stroked himself, making sure the latex sheath was secure, and with the other, he stroked her ankle. 

Rey had heard plenty of lines like that – had been called beautiful plenty of times – but he seemed strangely sincere. She edged her legs apart, and he crawled up between them. This time, when he kissed her, he didn’t taste like wine. He tasted like her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth at the same moment his cock pushed into her cunt. Rey almost bit him, startled by the stretch. He sucked on her lower lip, mumbling against it, “You feel so good.”

Rey wished she could say the same. She hadn’t had sex in two months, and, wet as she was, her muscles were burning as he worked her open with shallow thrusts. She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended she was enjoying it.

“Hey.” Ben’s voice cut through the rhythmic music – the playlist was on the fourth song, now – soberingly. She opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, brow creased. “Is this not good for you?”

“It’s fine.” Rey managed.

“ _Fine_ is not _good_.” His mouth folded under itself. He started to pull out, bracing himself with one hand on her pillow.

Rey sunk her nails into his back, keeping him close. “It’s good.”

That was a lie. Ben looked like he could tell it was lie. He kissed her neck, chuffing against it. His hips rotated slowly against hers, his pubic bone crushing pleasantly against her mons. He didn’t thrust for the longest time.

“Are you going to…?” Rey asked, finally, awkwardly. His size was intimidating, and besides, being in bed with anyone for the first time was intimidating. Heat was starting to pool in her belly and the heaviness of him inside of her was pleasant, not painful. She just didn’t know how to tell him that. She’d never been good at talking in bed, whether it be taking dirty or just asking for what she wanted.

Ben kissed her mouth and started to pump slowly, his hand snaking down to her clit and rubbing the wet, swollen flesh right to the left of it. He’d taken his sweet time to thrust, but it hardly took any time for her to come again, keening softly into his shoulder and squeezing his ribs with her calves.

The mattress’s thumping, the squeak of the springs, and the slap of his sac against her bottom were almost drowned out by the sex playlist, but not quite. The symphony was punctuated by her little whimpers when he hit her cervix and his rushed, breathy apologies after he did. When the seventh song started, his groans made up the harmony.  

Rey usually thought those sorts of sounds were uncomfortable to listen to – she always worried about the neighbors and men’s voices got too high-pitched during sex.

Ben’s voice was still deep when he said, in her ear, “I’m about to come.”

The rough, gravelly tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. A shiver seemed to run down his spine, too. He arched deeply into her as he orgasmed, eyes going wide and then screwing shut. His mouth hung open as the muscles of his lower back and ass twitched under her hands, his spend shooting into the thin layer of latex seperating them.

Rey pulled his head down by his hair, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. He panted helplessly against her chin when she said, “That was good.”

She wasn’t lying, this time.

***

When Rey woke up, Ben was already awake. He was scrolling on his phone, holding it above his face. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Rey said, suddenly very self-conscious of her morning breath and mussed hair. She liked to stay the night after sex – it made her sleepy – but she didn’t like the morning after. It was so hard to make casual conversation.

“I made you your own playlist.” Ben told her. He pressed _play_. The saccharine, bouncy chords of a nineteen-seventies song by Hall  & Oats were a bit muffled, but Rey could tell this was a different type of playlist. It was a happy, upbeat, optimistic playlist. It was a playlist made up of cheesy, feel-good songs.

Ben set the phone down on his pillow and then rolled on top of her, kissing her as if he didn’t care about morning breath or know how to be politely distant in the morning after a one-night stand.

***

Sex with Ben was just as good the second time. Afterwards, he showered, and Rey laid in bed, pretending to read her emails. Instead, she checked her Tinder account. She’d matched with a new user.  

Aaron - if that was his real name - was very cute. Very, very cute. She flicked through his pictures, feeling a little guilty for doing that while she was in another man’s bed.

Ben started singing in the shower – that Hall & Oates song he’d played while they’d had sex for the second time. He wasn’t a very good singer, his deep voice cracking on the high notes.

Still, the water-garbled lyrics made Rey smile. She opened the settings on her Tinder application, scrolled down, and, after a moment of hesitation, pressed _delete account._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall recieve. Leave a comment and ye shall recieve more! Comments are the only way I get paid for all my, er, hard word... writing smut... 
> 
> P.S. Next up, meeting the parents and the first time someone says the L word... although it may not be who you think it is!


	9. The L Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: meeting the parents, the first time someone says the L Wor.d

Rey should have known something was afoot when Ben told her he was making special occasion prime rib on an innocuous Thursday afternoon. She worried, for a split second, that he might be proposing. Then, she reasoned that he wanted to celebrate their shared address and identically cut keys.

Rey, ever the pragmatist, agreed to copy said key for Ben and cram his clothes and keepsakes into her little apartment – his own being sublet, fully furnished – because of the damn dog. It was Ben’s dog, after all. His name was still on the lease at his place twelve blocks away. If she got cold feet, or he got sick of her, he could just give his sublessee the boot. Besides, her rent was ridiculous, and he was paying half of it. The sex was great, and _regular –_ before work, while dinner was in the oven, right before bed when they’d already put on pajamas and brushed their teeth.

These mental gymnastics let her pretend that living together was a purely practical arrangement. She hadn’t said that she loved him, and, out of stubbornness, he hadn’t, either. They’d been together for five and a half months. Living together wasn’t terribly romantic. They tripped over each other, woke up at different times, and spent a lot of time divvying up chores and groceries.

It was like having a roommate – well, a second roommate. Chewie wasn’t her pet; he was just her furry roommate. Ben was a roommate who she had sex with.

Rey nibbled her lower lip and tapped her cell phone against her desk. It was three o’clock. She’d worked late Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Ben was home early, making prime rib. She could go home early. They could have sex.

She reached over to her computer monitor and turned it off, and tapped out a quick text message to Ben. _I’m coming home early. You’d better be cooking naked._

It still felt new and exciting to say _I’m coming_ _home_ to him.

***

Rey’s phone dinged three times in quick succession as she climbed the stairs to their apartment.

_DON’T._

_I can explain._

_It was supposed to be a surprise._

Warily, Rey stood on her doormat, reading and re-reading the text messages. For a horrifying moment, she wondered whether Ben had strung up Christmas lights and scattered rose petals and was going to get down on one knee. Then, for an even more horrifying moment, she wondered if he was cheating. She quickly dispensed of that notion; she could no more imagine Ben cheating than speaking in tongues. Perhaps he’d brought someone home for a three-way. He’d said it – whatever _it_ was – was a surprise. That would be surprising. He was the jealous type. Maybe he was watching gay pornography. That would be even more surprising – he was so heterosexual it was alarming. He could be smoking pot – no, not Ben. He sniffed at the neighbors who did.

Rey fumbled with her key, and peered inside. The familiar, now-comforting smell of prime rib filled the apartment.

A short, curvy woman with a bun as big as her head was in the kitchen. She half-turned, a polite smile spreading across her elegant features. She was wearing an apron over a ladylike linen suit and pearls – a strange combination. “You must be Rey!”

Rey blinked at her. This woman didn’t look familiar. She was elfin, distinctive. “You… you must be the surprise.”

“Surprise?” The woman cocked her head. “Benjamin told me – ”

The woman kept talking, but Rey didn’t hear her. All she heard was _Benjamin_ , a name she knew, intellectually, was Ben’s name, but _never_ heard used. She’d called him Benjamin, once, teasingly, and he’d wrinkled his nose, saying, “My mother calls me Benjamin.”

Rey had expected Ben’s mother to be, well, taller, and she’d expected the courtesy of being told she was visiting. But she couldn’t be angry at the diminutive, newly widowed woman who looked so horrified to have intruded.

Ben – _he_ was a different story. She could be angry at him.

***

 “Worst surprise ever.” Rey said, in a hushed voice, when Leia was in the bathroom. She couldn’t yell, or Leia would overhear. Ben had barreled up the steps and into the apartment twelve minutes after she had, wild-eyed and trying to smooth down his hair. He kept looking guilty at Rey, as if he knew he was in trouble.

“I was afraid you would get a hotel or leave town or something if I told you she was coming." Ben admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

“Why would I – no!” Rey realized what he meant. She looked around the L-shaped studio apartment. Suddenly, she remembered the lube and the condoms they’d never gotten around to using in the medicine cabinet. She thought of the underwear tossed carelessly in a hamper on top of the dresser. She thought about her packet of birth control pills, sitting blatantly on her bedside table. Her face heated. “No, Ben!”

“I can’t make my mother stay in a hotel, Rey.” Ben argued, helplessly. “She can sleep on the pull-out.”

“I am not sleeping in the same bed as you with your mother in the same room.” Rey hissed. That was something old, married couples did. People like them – people who had been dating for less than six months – were supposed to sneak around and pretend they weren’t having sex.

“We live together, for God’s sake – ” Ben half-turned as the bathroom door creaked opened. “Why don’t I open a bottle of red wine, Mom?”

“It’s a Thursday.” Rey mumbled, toeing the rug.

“You’re right, we should have champagne.” Ben ignored her, taking a bottle of red wine out of the cabinet and putting it right back. He ducked into the refrigerator and took out the cheap bottle of champagne they kept on hand. When he popped it open, and Leia jumped a little. He poured liberal amounts into glasses and dispensed them, ignoring Rey’s frown. He lifted his glass, and took a long, desperate gulp, his throat bobbing.

For the first time, Rey realized how nervous he was, and how badly he wanted her to like his mother and vice versa. He never drank quickly if he wasn’t nervous.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Ben seemed to realize they hadn’t taken a sip yet. He lifted his empty glass in Rey’s direction, cheeks red. “I’ve wanted to introduce you to my mother since our third date. So, uh... here’s to that.”

***

“You two seem pretty serious.” Leia said, quietly, as she washed the dishes.

“I am.” Ben was drying the dishes as she handed them to him. Rey lay in bed, just around the corner, listening to them move about and whisper back and forth. She’d feigned sleepiness and crept under the covers, pretending to be asleep. She wanted to give them some privacy – they hadn’t seen each other since Han’s funeral a month prior – and she was feeling a little overwhelmed. Leia was lovely – she could begrudgingly admit that – but she was as overbearing and prying as Ben described her.

“She isn’t?” Leia asked.

There was a pause. Rey imagined Ben glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still asleep. She barely breathed, even though he couldn’t see her.

“She is.” Ben said, quietly. “She just won’t admit it.”

“You love her.” Leia observed, with her characteristic frankness. “You love her, and you’re delusional.”

“I’m not delusional.” Ben’s voice was very low, but Rey detected strain. He was sensitive about this, she realized – more sensitive than he let on. Below his gentle patience, he wanted to be loved. “She’s just stubborn.”

Leia’s skeptical silence spoke volumes. The apartment was silent except for the tap and the gentle clank of silverware in the sink.

“But I’m _more_ stubborn.” Ben set the last pot down in the drying rack with a dull thud. He exhaled, gustily. “She’s it, for me. I have to be.”

***

When it was dark in the apartment, Ben slid into bed. He didn’t share her compunctions about sleeping in the same bed with Leia just ten feet away, on the other side of an open bookshelf filled with curio and novels.

“Are you awake?” He murmured against her earlobe. He sounded a little anxious and a little hopeful.

Rey made a little chuffing sound that she thought was convincing. She didn’t want him to know that she’d overheard his conversation with his mother. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard – _you love her_ – unless she heard it from him. He wasn’t ready to tell her that he loved her – because he hadn’t – so she’d either overheard his dirty little secret or he _didn’t_ love her. Both possibilities made her stomach hurt.

Apparently, she wasn’t very convincing.

“I know you are.” He said, against her hair. Rey didn’t say anything. He kissed her neck airily, his stubble ticking her. “You stubborn little thing.”

***

Ben always left for work before Rey did. She usually walked him downstairs, collected the newspaper, and then plodded back up to their apartment to drink her coffee and read the news, bleary eyed.

Today, she made a point of leaving early – very early. She didn’t want to eat breakfast with Leia. She was afraid she’d be subjected to the same line of questioning that Ben had been last night, and that she’d be forced to admit something she wasn’t ready to admit yet.

“You’re early.” Ben commented, sipping his coffee.

“Busy day.” Rey lied. She picked up her keys, wondering whether he would walk her downstairs and kiss her, in a mirror of their normal routine. He didn’t stand up. He stared mulishly at her over his coffee mug, daring her to say goodbye – to be affectionate – in front of his mother.

“Mmm hmm.” Ben nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. It occurred to her that he was trying to prove a point, although she wasn’t sure whether he was trying to prove a point to his mother or to her.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Rey tried again.

Still no response. Ben waited.

“Have a good day?” Rey bleated, helplessly.

His eyebrow rose, incrementally.

“I lo –” Rey bit her own tongue, face flushing. Ben was _wrong_. She was _by far_ more stubborn than he was. She was much too stubborn to say _it_ first, and too insecure. _He_ had to say it first, to her face, plainly and without condition. No one had ever said those three words to her and she had never said them. She needed to hear them and believe he meant them before she could say them. “Loathe you. I loathe you.”

Rey didn’t know why _that_ word was substituted for _love._  It wasn’t the obvious choice. She felt her cheeks heat. Leia gave her the strangest look, snuggled in a voluminous white bathrobe.

Ben looked perplexed, for a moment. Then his eyes crinkled up at the corners. He winked at her over his coffee mug. “I loathe you too, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the L Word you are looking for.
> 
> P.S. Up next... smutty smut smut & jealousy.


	10. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: kink, jealous Ben, Finnrey friendship.

Ben had thought Rey immune to the primping and procrastinating that women did before a social occasion. He was wrong. He came home to find makeup scattered across the counter, four dresses laying on the bed, and two pairs of high heels on the floor. There were faint splashing sounds from the bathroom.

“You’re taking a bath?” Ben poked his head into the bathroom.

Rey, crammed into the too-small tub – he shuddered to think how he could fit in it – blew bubbles at him. “I’m shaving my legs.”

Ben sat down on the side of the tub and dipped his fingers in the sudsy water, trying to peek at her naked body under the bubbles. He found the bare, silky skin of her calf and stroked it. “Don’t you always shave your legs?”

Rey shrugged, clavicle deep in the water, her legs crumpled up under her body. “I usually just do it in the shower with body wash. I broke out a new razor and nice shaving cream for the occasion.”

The occasion in question was an annual charity banquet he and his colleagues were always invited to. Their firm sponsored the charity in question; the party was mandatory fun. Ben usually disliked going. He was excited, this year. Last year, they’d only just met. This year, they’d been dating for thirteen months. He’d have the most beautiful woman in the room on his arm. She’d drink nice champagne and let him do naughty things to her in the cab on the way home.

His hand slid further up the skin of her freshly-shaved leg, and a question formed in his mind. He didn’t want to wait until they were in the back seat of a cab and tipsy to find out the answer. “How high did you shave?”

Rey yawned, tilting her head back. She didn’t seem to understand his implication. “My whole leg?”

To illustrate, she lifted her leg out of the water, and his hand slid all the way to her sex. He had his answer. “Not here?”

Rey pinked, self-consciously. She was neatly trimmed, but not bare. “Do you like me better shaved?”

“I like you every which way.” Ben leaned over the tub and kissed her forehead. He picked up the pink, five-blade razor sitting on the porcelain rim and examined it. It was brand new, but not in the least bit sharp. He tutted in disapproval and stood up, fetching his sharp straight razor from the drawer.

“Are you going to shave your legs, too?” Rey teased.

“No.” Ben twirled the black razor between his fingers. “I’m going to shave your pussy.”

“Ben!” Rey pretended to look shocked. Her gaze darted between the discarded pink razor and his razor. “Use mine. You put that one on your face.”

“I’m going to put my _face_ in your pussy, too.” Ben grinned. “And mine’s sharper.”

He flicked the towel out of her reach, folded it up, and set it on the bathroom counter. When Rey sat on it, naked and dripping, her feet dangled, getting the floor all wet. He almost slipped as he knelt. Laughing, he braced himself on her knee. “Slippery."

Rey pushed her knees apart and showed him something else that was slippery. With surgical precision, Ben examined it, pushing aside the fold of her body to get a good look and pressing a chaste kiss to the little mound under her belly.

As he rubbed the shaving mousse in his hands until it foamed, Rey watched, leaning back on her hands. Her mouth fell open when, with both palms, he slathered the foam onto the lips between her legs, stroking it into the creases between her thighs and her sex. His hands were still sticky with shaving cream as he picked up the razor.

“Don’t cut me.” Rey sounded equal parts nervous and aroused. It made Ben’s belly tighten. Her comfort was of paramount importance to him in bed, but he knew from experience that some of the most memorable things happened outside of her comfort zone.

“I’ll be so careful.” He kissed the inside of her knee, propped her foot up on his shoulder, and drew the blade across the top of her belly, swiping of the very top of her public hair.

Rey reached her behind her and turned on the hot water. Between every slow, painstakingly careful stroke of the blade, Ben reached around her and rinsed the razor. Ever-so-slowly, more of her was exposed – wiped clean of the white foam, and shaved clean of any hair.

When he shaved her labia – first one lip, lifting it careful with two fingers, and then the other – the slickness of her arousal mingled with the shaving cream on his fingers. He longed to shove his fingers into that wetness, to pump them in and out of her until they were clean of the shaving cream and covered in her, but he knew better. He’d regret it, in the morning, when she was irritated and itchy.

It was exquisite torture, to be so careful not to touch her or cut her. Rey watched, panting a little, her nipples standing at full attention in the air, her knees twitching every time the blade scraped her skin. Eventually, she lost sight of it, as he shaved lower and lower, and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the mirror.

Ben admired his handiwork for a long moment before he bunched up a towel and wiped the pale tracks of drying shaving cream from her thighs and stomach. He hadn’t cut her, or irritated the sensitive skin in between her legs. She looked different completely bare. He could see the flush of arousal on her skin and the moisture leaking down the crease of her body towards her bottom. Her thighs were trembling impatiently.

Hooking her knees over his shoulders, Ben ran his hands up her smooth legs. He kissed the soft, pale, ticklish spot right next to her cunt. She tasted clean and soapy, and her skin was warm on his nose and cheeks.

Rey looked down at him with hooded eyes, tangling her hand in his hair. He put his face in her pussy, just as he’d promised, his needy tongue searching out her hairless folds and crevasses. With a _crack_ , her head tilted back against the fogged-up mirror again.

***

“You’re wearing _that_?” Ben asked, when Rey walked, naked, on wobbly legs, to the black dress she’d draped over her the bed. His annoyance cut through the haze of his orgasm – she’d sucked him off with remarkable efficiency. He was in the middle of shaving his face, now; it was a much less enjoyable endeavor.

“You love this dress.” Rey didn’t fasten a bra around her body before she stepped into the dress.

He did. She’d worn it for their sixth monthaversary. “ _He_  will, too.”

“Oh, Ben.” Rey scoffed, adjusting the thin straps over her shoulders and reached for her necklace on the dresser.

“He has a thing for you.” Ben muttered, wiping his face with a hand towel. “Will you at least put a bra on?”

“I can’t wear a bra with this dress. You know that.”

Ben did. He’d spent their entire six monthaversary staring across the table at her cleavage. When her nipples had started poking through the silk, he’d asked for the check and then fucked her in the emergency-exit stairwell.

Now, he grumbled under his breath as he clasped her necklace for her. It was a present from him; he liked to see it on her. It marked her as his. He _still_ didn’t want her wearing that dress. Perhaps he should mark her some other way –

“No!” Rey squirmed away as he ducked down and sucked her neck blindly, his teeth bared. “No hickeys.”

Ben whined softly against the nape of her neck. “Let’s just stay in and have sex.”

“We just had sex.”

“You gave me a blow job; that doesn’t count.”

Rey groaned, trying to escape the circle of his arms. “You can’t get hard again that fast.”

“For you, I can.” Ben argued. “You look so hot.”

“I look _so hot_ because I want to impress your co-workers and all the other suckers who pay six-hundred per plate.” Rey told him, turning around and kissing his chin.

Ben glowered at her, thinking of one _particular_ co-worker. “You can impress them with your intellect and sense of humor, not your tits. Those are mine.”

“ _Benjamin_!” Rey looked angry, now. She’d put on her high-heels, and suddenly, she was more imposing. “If you ever want to touch them again –”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Ben lifted his hands in surrender. He tried to appease her. He knew she didn’t like it when he was possessive, but he couldn’t help himself. It was in his nature. He was an only child; he’d never shared toys. Rey was the best toy he’d ever had. “I want to touch them tonight, so I’m changing the subject. I love you. You look gorgeous. Ravishing. Perfect. Sexy. Sexy as _fuck_. I really love you.”

Rey laughed, the way she couldn’t help doing when he was uncharacteristically silly, and he knew he was forgiven. “Behave tonight.”

“If I do, will _you_ misbehave for me?”

Rey rolled her eyes, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. She wouldn’t need blush and lipstick, if he had his way. He’d keep her flushing and biting her lip and smiling all night long. He wanted to be the _only_ one who made her smile.

***

Unfortunately, Finn knew how to make Rey smile. Ben gripped his champagne glass and watched his colleague work his magic. He wasn’t even that funny, but Rey tipped her head back and roared with laughter every time he made a joke. She let him bring her flutes of champagne and kiss the back of her hand with an exaggerated bow.

Ben hated Finn.

He hadn’t always hated Finn. He’d been indifferent to him. He was a subordinate. He hadn’t seen him as a threat, professionally or personally. Rey had brought him a salad, a four months after they’d started dating. Wildly proud to be having sex with such a gorgeous creature, he’d introduced her to all of his co-workers.

Two months later, she popped by bearing coffee and Ben's forgotten lunch. Finn had given her a hug and asked her what her favorite coffeeshop was. She’d taken him down the block to a place she frequented. Finn had just moved to the city, she reassured Ben. He didn’t have any friends. It was just coffee.

Ben _really_ hated Finn. He hated how touchy-feely he was. He hated how much in common he had with Rey. He was Rey’s age. He wouldn’t pressure her into marriage and a family. He was fun, and funny. He liked weird pop music and Thai food, like she did. He flirted with her shamelessly.

Before he knew it, Ben was crossing the room, ignoring what his boss was saying. He grasped Rey’s elbow. She turned, smiling faintly at him. She’d had three glasses of champagne; he’d counted. He took the most recent glass out of her hand. He wasn’t opposed to her drinking it, but Finn had given it to her. _He_ should be the one handing her drinks.

Making eye contact with Finn, he leaned into his girlfriend and kissed her temple, open-mouthed. “I want to introduce you to some people.”

***

As they made the rounds, Ben got more and more cocksure. At first, he introduced her as _Rey_. Then, as _my girlfriend, Rey._ When he introduced her to Poe Dameron, their accountant, who, he knew, rubbed shoulders with Finn, he called her _his live-in girlfriend._ His hand tightened possessively on her waist.

“Subtle.” Rey said, dryly, and sipped her champagne.

“I’d rather introduce you as my fiancée or wife.” Ben had been drinking heavily; he felt brave.

“We can have that argument later.” Rey murmured, into her fourth glass of champagne.

Ben looked over his shoulder at Finn. The younger man caught him staring and waved, awkwardly. Ben didn’t wave back. Smugly, he slid his hand down well past the socially acceptable dip of Rey’s back and rested it on her ass.

Rey stomped on his foot with her high heels, and he winced, sliding his hand back up to her hip. “ _Don’t_ touch my ass in public.”

Ben ground his teeth. “He’s staring at it.”

“No, he’s not.” Rey hissed. She stopped short, and plastered a neutral look on her face as someone approached them. The passerby made the mistake of referring to Rey as Mrs. Solo; that only made the horrible tension between them worse.

“Not Mrs. Solo.” Ben corrected the architect, bitterly. “She won’t marry me.”

The man laughed, heartily, thinking he was joking, and then stopped short when he saw the strained look on Rey’s face. “I… oh.”

Ben thought he’d appropriately embarrassed Rey; it seemed she was willing to up the ante. Red-faced, she said, stiffly, “Maybe if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole, I would.”

“I should go.” The man stammered.

“No.” Rey shook her head. She wavered a little in her high heels. “I should go.”

“Rey, don’t.” Ben tried to stop her, uncaring if he made a scene. She shook him off, hurrying across the room.

Finn intercepted him before he could follow her outside. “Ben – ”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Ben snarled. Finn held fast to the sleeve of his suit.

“Just between you and me, I’m gay.” Finn said, shortly.

Ben blinked, almost falling over. “You’re what?”

“Gay.” Finn repeated, as if he wasn’t quite bright. “Super gay.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. “So you don’t – ”

“No.” Finn looked exasperated. “I don’t.”

***

Ben found Rey on the curb, waiting for a taxi. She had her arms wrapped around herself; it was chilly. When Ben tried to drape his jacket over her shoulders, she walked away from him, wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Ben tried. “I… I didn’t know Finn…”

He trailed off as she stared at him, blankly. Maybe, he realized, she didn’t _know_ that Finn was gay. It didn’t really matter.  

“I’m sorry.” He said, again, helplessly, holding his jacket out to her as a gesture of goodwill.

“It was _never about_ Finn.” Rey’s chin wobbled. Her voice broke.

“What are you saying?” Ben asked, his stomach dropping out from beneath him. He knew exactly what she was saying; they weren’t really fighting about Finn. They were fighting because he wanted to lay claim to her. He wanted the world to know she was his and only his, forever. He wanted to put a ring on her finger.

“Maybe this isn’t working.” Rey’s throat bobbed. Her cheeks were wet, and he realized she’d been crying on the curb, in a black cocktail dress, because of him. He hated himself. 

“Don’t say that.” Ben’s voice cracked. His ears rang. He heard himself speak. He sounded bewildered, like a man blindsided. He should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t. He knew they’d have a fight. He never thought he’d lose her. He fought, desperately, for her, his voice pitching up. "We had a stupid fight, we don't - you don't want to _break up_."

“I'm twenty-four.” Rey whispered. Tears dripped off of her jawline and speckled the cleavage he’d been so stupidly annoyed about. "I don't know what I want. You want something serious."

“But…” Ben swallowed hard, over and over, so that he wouldn’t cry. He thought about the ring in his sock drawer and felt he might vomit. He felt real, physical pain as his plans and dreams fell away in tatters. A taxi pulled up; its lights blinded him momentarily. “Rey, I’m seriously in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRB SOBBING. 
> 
> P.P.S. Take some smut to soften the blow. 
> 
> P.P.S. You'll note that they've been dating for 13 months in this chapter. Chronologically, this is the furthest point we've seen, and things have gone horribly awry. So, do they break up? Is it just a stupid fight? What do you think? And no, I won't leave you hanging on this awful cliffie forever - we will find out what happens, and soon. Sooner, if you leave me a comment ;)


	11. Socks

Rey wasn’t sure whether Ben would pack a big suitcase or a small suitcase. If he packed a small suitcase, he would be gone for a few days – maybe a week. If he packed a big suitcase, he could be gone for longer.

Ben didn’t come home the night of the charity banquet. She tossed and turned, not bothering to wash her smeared make-up off her face or take off her cocktail dress. She half expected him to come home in the wee hours of morning, and she wanted him to see how upset she was with him. She woke up alone, and went to work with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner going to the guillotines. She checked her phone compulsively. It didn’t _ding_ all day.

As she mounted the steps that evening, Rey saw movement through the window of their apartment. Relieved, somehow, she fumbled with her key. She ran up the steps. She wasn’t ready to reconcile yet – he’d have to apologize, first, and she begrudgingly admitted that she should, too. She just wanted to _see_ him, to reassure herself that he was real, before she asked him to spend a few nights at a hotel or on Hux’s couch.

Ben was packing – not a suitcase, but boxes.

“What are you doing?” Rey asked. She’d intended to be aloof and angry. She just sounded confused and young.  

Ben straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans. He had dark circles under his eyes and he hadn’t shaved. “I’m packing.”

“Why don’t you just take a suitcase?” Rey asked, knowing the answer but dreading hearing it. Her stomach knotted itself up tightly.

Ben thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. She wondered where he’d slept, if he had slept at all. “I’m moving out.”

“We had a _fight._ You don’t...” Rey trailed off, feeling ill. She regretted telling him, in the alcohol-fueled heat of the moment, that their relationship _wasn’t working_. She didn’t want him stop trying to make it work. “You don’t have to move out.”

Ben’s mouth twitched. After a moment, he said, very slowly, as if he’d practiced saying the words, “I think we should break up.”

Rey’s voice broke along with her heart. “Is this because of what I said last night?”

Ben looked at his feet. He cleared his throat and the muscle in his jaw twitched. She expected him to soliloquize. She knew what he would say. He couldn’t wait forever. She might never make up her mind. He might love her for years and years and one day, wake up, aged forty, unmarried, and without children. He would resent her forever.

His eyes were glassy when he looked up at her. All he said was, “No.”

Rey wrapped her arms around herself. She heard him sniff, and then he crooked his bicep over his face for a moment. He bent over to pick up a box, and she couldn’t see his face.

“I can’t help but feel like we’re making an awful mistake.” She whispered, as he passed her.

Ben paused. He set the box down on the table and wrapped his arms around her. Rey didn’t believe, for a moment, that this was anything but a _goodbye._

“I do, too.” Ben kissed her forehead. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

***

Sleeping at a hotel was less depressing than sleeping alone at his old apartment. Sleeping in a hotel felt temporary. For a week, Ben pretended that he was travelling. He ordered room service, watched porn, and drank miniature bottles of alcohol.

When his sublessee moved out, he went back to his old apartment. He realized how permanent the break-up was. He lived alone. There was no pink razor in the shower and no lacy panties in the hamper. He ate frozen meals and wondered whether he should get a cat. Chewie would have hated a cat, but a cat was a better pet for a single person.

He _should_ get a cat, Ben told himself. He was single again.

He didn’t even contemplate embracing his bachelorhood. He didn’t download Tinder again or call an ex-girlfriend. He didn’t have wild sex or let the dishes pile up. He watch sports. He didn’t _want_ to be single. He wanted to good-humoredly eat whole wheat pasta and watch reality television. He wanted to be told to take out the trash and to have vanilla sex.

He wanted _Rey_  to force-feed him healthy food, monopolize the remote, nag him about the trash and have boring sex with him.

***

Ben had been single for two weeks when Rey knocked on his door. She looked confused, as if she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to his apartment or what she was doing at there. She looked down at the single black sock in her hand and seemed to remember. She thrust the sock towards him, red-faced. “You left this at my apartment.”

Ben leaned heavily on the door. He could have said _it’s a fucking sock_ , but instead, he croaked, “I’ve been missing that.”

“Do you have its mate?” Rey’s voice was very high-pitched. She sounded nervous. “It’s half of a pair.”

Ben knew he wasn’t dreaming. In his dreams she made grand declarations of love and begged him to take her back. She didn’t show up in the middle of the night with a missing _sock_. He couldn’t dream up something that ridiculous.

Ben cleared his throat. “I think… I think I have it in here somewhere.”

Rey blinked rapidly. “Do you need help finding it?”

***

They should have looked for the missing sock in the boxes, still stacked along the walls, or in the dresser, or in the washing machine, or in the dryer, or in the little ravine between those two machines. Instead, they looked in an unorthodox place. They looked in his bed – not under it, but _in_ it.

It would have been hard to find a single, black sock in a dark room. Peeling off and scattering their clothes on the floor didn’t help matters. If the sock had been anywhere around, it would have been buried under Ben’s t-shirt, Rey’s blouse, Ben’s boxers, Rey’s jeans, and finally, her panties.

Naked, Rey kept the single sock clutched tightly in her hand. Ben took it and threw it over his shoulder onto the pile of clothes. He wrapped her arm around his shoulders, holding it by elbow, and ducked his head into the crook of her neck. She smelled like she hadn’t showered in a day or two. She didn’t smell bad; she just didn’t smell like soap. She smelled like herself. He hadn’t showered, either. There was something enormously comforting about being naked with someone and not caring whether you were clean or groomed or saying all the right things.

“You didn’t unpack?” Rey whispered, against his mouth, as he pressed his palm flat against her abdomen and slid his thumb down between her legs to find her clit. The hair was growing back. It reminded him of how long they’d been apart. He moved his thumb more frantically.

“I didn’t unpack.” Ben sucked her lower lip.

Rey hoisted her leg over his hip, and they moved like ships in the night, rubbing against each other but not coming together. Ben was determined that he wouldn’t miss again. He’d missed her for two weeks. He gripped her thigh and held it in place as he penetrated her, breathing hard through his mouth.

They should have made up before they made love, Ben knew. But if they had, they might not have made love. They might have realized that making love wouldn’t change anything.

“Ben.” Rey’s voice was breathy once he was fully sunk in her. Her fingers play with the ringlets at the nape of his neck. “Why didn’t you unpack?”

Ben pulled half-way out and then pressed back in with a satisfying squelching sound, his hip-bones bumping hers. They hadn’t engaged in any foreplay besides pretending to look for a lost sock, and she was sopping wet, pulsing around him. She wriggled a little, trying to splay her thighs wider to let him come closer. “Why did you bring me a lost sock?”

“It’s part of a matching pair.” Rey kissed a line along his jaw as he rocked gently over her, as if he was soothing her. She hid her face under his chin. Her breath was hot and rhythmic on his throat. “They’re supposed to be together. They’re useless without each other.”

***

“Can we start over from the beginning?” Rey asked, softly, when they were naked and sated. He hadn’t bothered to put any sheets on the bed. They lay on the bare mattress, the duvet covering their tangled legs as their co-mingled fluids dried behind their knees and on their thighs. They’d left a stain, probably; she didn’t care.

“Give me a few hours.” Ben joked, drowsily.

Rey laughed into the crook of his arm. “I didn’t mean – but if you want to…”

“No.” Ben was wide awake and serious suddenly. He rolled onto his side and hid half of his face in the pillow. “We can’t. I can’t pretend we haven’t lived together and that you haven’t met my mom and that there hasn’t been an engagement ring in my sock drawer for four months.”

Rey sat up, abruptly, clutching the duvet to her chest. “You have an engagement ring in your sock drawer?”

“If we’d actually _looked_ for that sock, you would have found it.” Ben sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at his hands, resigned.

“Is it for me?” Rey asked, stupidly.

“I bought it for you.” Ben’s shoulders went slack as he admitted it, as if he was relieved to be letting go of a long-held secret. His throat bobbed. He laughed, painfully. “I was too fucking optimistic.”

Rey leaned against his shoulder. She felt a stab of guilt. It cut through the irrational elation she’d felt when she heard the words _engagement ring_. “That’s not optimism. It’s realism. We’re _supposed_ to be together. We’re two halves of the same – the same pair of socks.”

Ben chuckled. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed the top of her head, leaning back against the headboard. “Socks can’t get married.”

“No.” Rey said, after a beat. “It might be three or four or _five_ years before I’m ready to be married.”

Ben paused, and then asked, as if his willingness to wait for two or three or four or five long _years_ hinged on this one thing, “In three or four or five years, will you be ready to be married to _me_?”

“Yes.” Rey didn’t hesitate. That was an easy question to answer. “If I marry anyone, I’ll marry you.”

“Not _if_.” Ben told her. “When.”

Ben _was_ an optimist. Rey loved him for his optimism. It was contagious. When he looked at her, lower lip jutting out determinedly, she knew, with  _absolute_   certainty, that she _would_ marry him. She loved him. She would still love him in three or four or five years. She kissed his left hand, smoothing her thumb over his second-to-last finger and wondering what a thin gold band would feel like there, between his knuckle and his joint. “When.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster to write. They had to come to terms with the fact that even if they're very much in love, they don't want the same things. Compromising on things that are important to you is only worth it if the person you're with is the The One. Rey finally came to terms with the fact that Ben is The One. Ben has known all along, of course. 
> 
> P.S. But will Rey reeaaaallly make Ben hold onto that engagement ring for three or four or five years, or will something change her mind? To whet your palatte, we're skipping further ahead in the future in the next chapter...


	12. Abnormal

 Ben’s girlfriend only came to his office for two reasons: lunch, or a crisis. She wasn’t holding his lunchbox or takeout, and she was white-faced. Ben knew this was a crisis. He shut the door behind her, kissing her cheek and wondering what he’d done to provoke her ire – or what someone else had done, and how he would make them suffer.

“Do you have ten-thousand dollars?” Rey asked, in a rush of red cheeks and blurted words.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. “What did you _do_? Do I need to hire a lawyer?”

“I want to freeze my eggs.”

Ben dropped his hand, slowly, to his side. Incredulous, he said, “Last week you said you were going to get your _no-baby_ _pill_ prescription refilled.”

Rey continued as if she hadn’t heard him. She was gulping in air like a fish. “It's expensive but I know, I _know_ how important it is to you to have children.”

“I thought we were going to make them the old-fashioned way.” Ben joked, lamely. “You know, a birth control slip-up and a few too many drinks.”

To his surprise, Rey burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ben drew her into his chest by her elbows, folding his arms round her. He rubbed the length of her spine with open palms, rocking her back and forth. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Rey hacked out a pathetic little cough against his chest. “I had an abnormal pap smear.”

“A _what_?”

Rey lifted her head, teary-eyed. “An abnormal pap smear.”

Ben felt unease coil in his stomach. He wasn’t particularly familiar with the specifics of gynecology but that sounded ominous. “English?”

“I might have cancer.” Rey choked out.

“What?” Ben repeated, stupidly. He knew what _that_ word meant, but _that_ couldn’t be what she meant. She was young and healthy. He loved her. It was inconceivable that he could lose her.

“I have to have biopsy done.” Rey hiccupped, blotchy-faced. “If it’s cancer, I want to freeze my eggs before I start chemo”

“Your eggs?” Ben blurted out. He should have reassured her – said, _it’s probably not cancer, let’s wait and see_ – but instead, he crushed her to her chest. Against her hair, he mumbled, “How can you be thinking about your _eggs_?”

He didn’t finish the sentence – _at a time like this? When you could die?_ His heart stammered in his chest.

“You want babies.” Rey protested, weakly.

“I want you to be healthy.” Ben kissed the top of her head, once, twice, three times.

Rey pushed his chest with surprising force. “ _I_ want your babies.”

Ben blinked at her, his mouth opening and closing. For a brief, blissful moment, happiness overshadowed his panic. She’d made offhand jokes about their hypothetical future children before, but he’d forced himself not to take them at face value. She was so _young_ , and gun-shy about commitment. They’d only been together for twenty-one months. For two awful weeks of those twenty-one months, they’d been broken up. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” Rey’s throat bobbed.

“Then I’ll pay for it.” Ben made the decision in an instant. He’d fantasized about impregnating her for _months_. He’d been sure they would conceive a baby – he always imagined that they’d do the conceiving bit missionary style, with their song playing in the background, because it was strange to imagine anything more kinky resulting in a baby – the old-fashioned way. He had never imagined that they would need any _help_ making a baby. She was so young.

“It isn’t covered by insurance – ”

“Fuck it. I don’t care.” Ben kissed her forehead, enraptured, despite the circumstances, by the idea of having a child with _her_ , the woman of his dreams. “We’ll freeze your eggs and when you’re healthy, we’ll make babies.”

***

Ben went with Rey to her biopsy appointment. Rey tilted her head to the side, feet in the stirrups, and looked at him, glassy-eyed. “I thought I’d never make up my mind about wanting kids. And now I feel like I made up my mind too late.”

“It’s not too late.” Ben squeezed her fingers. He was determined that it wouldn’t – no matter what the results of the biopsy were. They would still have their happy ending. He didn’t consciously entertain the possibility that she could die, but at night, he woke up, chest tight, tears on his face. Rey was a deep sleeper. Ben was grateful for that. He had to be – _seem_ – strong for her.

Regarding Rey’s fertility, gynecologist had used the kind of soothing, generic language that made Ben want to scream – _let’s cross that bridge when we get to it._ Ben knew she thought they were overreacting. It _could_ be something other than cancer – papillomavirus, or an infection, or nothing at all, just a fluke.

But it _could_ be cancer. Ben had an intense need to control his environment. He couldn’t sit idly by and watch the future he’d dreamed about slipped away while Rey mourned it. He had to do _something._

They were doing _something,_ even if it didn’t feel like enough – Rey stopped taking birth control the day they’d decided to freeze her eggs. If the biopsy results bore bad news, they would harvest the ovum as soon as she ovulated – in fourteen or so days – so she could start chemotherapy or have a hysterectomy, depending on whether the cancer had metastasized.

Ben would have gladly chopped off his right arm – and left arm, to boot – to keep Rey alive; he understood why a hysterectomy might be necessary. It still felt incredibly unfair. Using frozen eggs and artificial insemination was one thing; she would still be pregnant with their baby. A surrogate would rob them of the experience of _being_ pregnant. He wanted that experience. He wanted it for himself, and for Rey.

Ben could process the anger and sadness surrounding her fertility because with enough money and medical intervention, they could still have children. He couldn’t process the fear he felt when he heard the words _cervical cancer_ and _prognosis_. He compartmentalized that fear so that it didn’t cripple him.

Rey winced at the ceiling as the speculum stretched her. Her knees trembled under the ugly blue hospital gown. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. Her voice was very high-pitched. “I hate this part.”

Ben glanced down at her feet. They were tense and arched in the stirrups. “The… speculum?”

“No.” Rey shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut. As she shook her head, her hair rustled the light blue paper sheet on the examination table. The doctor’s rolling stool squeaked on the floor as she turned around, and Ben realized it was over. “The not knowing.”

***

The _not knowing_ lasted for four days. On the fourth day, Ben took Rey’s cell phone from her, over her objection, and called her office. He told the secretary that she was sick with the flu.

Rey sagged with relief and disappointment. She had been trying to keep busy – going to the gym for hours at a time, deep-cleaning the little grooves on their window sills with a toothbrush, and the like – but as time crept by, she grew more and more paralyzed with anxiety and guilt. She wasn’t spiritual, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was being punished by some higher power. She’d always said she might not to have want children; only now that she might not be _able_ to have children did she know she wanted them, desperately, one day.

“I need to go to work.” Rey told Ben, anxiously palming the cell phone back and forth between her hands once he hung up and handed it back to her. “I need something to distract me.”

Ben saw her fidgeting and took the cell phone away again. He set it on the kitchen counter. “I’ll distract you.”

Rey scowled. She didn’t think he was _capable_ of distracting her. His face had been stern with anxiety for three days. He had a faraway look in his eyes – not a happy one, as if he was day-dreaming, but a sad one, like he was regretting something he’d done. “How – ”

Ben hunched over and kissed her, artlessly. His tongue was very warm in her mouth, and his hands cupped the back of her skull. He swallowed her little yelp of surprise and walked her backwards, towards their bed.

Sex was sweet distraction, slow and sloppy. For the first time in days, Rey felt unhurried. She didn’t feel as if she was running out of time. They were suspended in time, together, doing what they did so well. She cried, a little, and he kissed the tears off her cheeks, his lips getting salty and shiny. His kisses tasted like seawater after that.

They hadn’t had sex in eight days – not since she’d gotten word that her pap smear had been abnormal. That had been a mistake, Rey knew. It made her feel whole to be made love to. He didn’t let her feel as if a part of herself might go missing. He chased away her deep, dark fear that he would leave her if she couldn’t give him children. He made love to her like nothing had changed, even though everything might change.

Rey let him distract her over and over that afternoon. She didn’t hear the telephone ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. So, I am tempted to write the next chapter chronologically because I don't want to leave you all in suspense - but the whole point of this story is to be non-chron, and I also want to write a "I just had sex and I'm about to eat NACHOS!" feat. Hux and Ben from early on in the relationship. I feel like the last few chapters have been pretty heavy and we all need some levity and smut. What would you rather read? Or would you rather read something else?
> 
> P.P.S. Even if you don't leave a prompt, your feedback means the absolute world to me. I do this for fun, but also because I love interacting with readers. It's no fun to write into the void!


	13. Choices

Rey answered her phone in the bathroom. She ran the sink. Ben stood outside the door, wondering whether she was trying to keep him from hearing the conversation or her tears. When lock clicked, he hurried back to the kitchen so she wouldn’t realize that he was eavesdropping.

Rey tucked her hair behind her ears. Her face wasn’t blotchy or pink. “I have low-grade squamous intraepithelial lesions.”

Ben braced himself on the kitchen counter. He’d gone to the refrigerator to drink milk straight from the carton in the middle of their sex marathon – he wasn’t twenty-two anymore, he needed to rehydrate and he needed protein – when he’d seen her phone blinking insistently. He’d paced, impatiently, while she’d locked herself in the bathroom. Now, his fingers curled anxiously around the edge of the granite slab. “You need to just tell me what that _means_. I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Rey laughed, startled, and he knew it was all right. “They’re not precancerous.”  

Ben felt his body go lose and weightless. If he wasn’t holding onto the counter, he might have floated away. Then, the stone of uncertainty in his belly dragged him back down. “If they’re not precancerous… what _are_ they?”

Rey shrugged, helplessly. She was fidgety, as if she had too much adrenaline coursing through her veins. “They’re just _there_. I have to have another pap smear next year to see if they’re _still_ there.”

Ben frowned. He wasn’t sure he could bear three-hundred and sixty-five days like the last four, even if the lesions weren’t precancerous. “Can’t you just remove them? Just to be sure?”

Rey shook her head. “A surgical option would impact my, uh… fertility.”

For some reason, she blushed when she said that word. It spread from her cheeks to her ears. Ben wondered, for a moment, if she was embarrassed to admit that she wanted children. She’d so stubbornly avoided the topic for months, and she was nothing if not stubborn. She hated to admit she was wrong.

They stood there, in awkward silence. After a moment, Ben made a gusty, relieved noise, and rounded the kitchen island. He picked her up by her waist and sat her on the countertop so he didn’t have to bend over; he planned to hold her for far longer than would be comfortable to hunch over.

 Rey yelped in surprise; undeterred, Ben buried his face in her chest. She was wearing his old t-shirt; it smelled like sex. Through the cotton, he mouthed at her nipple.

“Benjamin!” Rey gripped his hair and pulled his hair back. Even as she scolded him, her legs wrapped around the backs of his bare thighs, pulling his groin closer to his. Through the fabric of his briefs, he could feel her heat. She was still sloppy and wet from the last time he’d ejaculated inside of her; he wanted to do it again, anyways. He reached under the hem of the borrowed t-shirt and slicked two fingers through her sex. Her breath hitched, and her protests came out wordless. “What are you doing?”

“Come on, babe.” Ben wheedled, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue, and then sucking the sensitive spot behind it. “Sex is life-affirming.”

“Life-affirming?” Rey’s laughter shook against his ribs as she arched against him.

“It makes you feel alive.” Ben wrapped his sticky, messy hand around her throat. He could feel her pulse under his thumb, strong and healthy. It synchronized with his pulse as he kissed her, and only then did he realized how fast both of their hearts were strumming.

Her pulse jumped, suddenly. She repeated, faintly, “ _Life-affirming_?”

Ben hummed into her hair, happily. He started to wiggle out of his briefs, standing in between her thighs. He had wanted to keep her in bed all day, distracted and well-loved. Fucking her on the kitchen counter would do, now that he knew had years and years to make slow love to her in bed.  

“Ben.” Rey’s hands knotted in his hair. The pain wasn’t unpleasurable.

“Mmm hmm.” Ben mumbled into her neck. He tried to pull her thigh up and over his hip, impatiently. The t-shirt hitched up and exposed her navel.

Rey yanked the shirt back down and planted her knee in the middle of his chest, stopping his progress. Bewildered, his erection bobbing in between them, Ben hovered over her. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, braced on her elbows. Her hair was in the sink, among the dirty dishes. “I stopped taking the pill eight days ago.”

Ben blinked at her, and then looked down between her thighs. He’d already noticed his come leaking out of her and onto the kitchen countertop. It had turned him on, inexplicably, to see the messy evidence of their coupling. “Holy shit.”

Rey sat up, almost knocking heads with him. “Holy shit, Ben? _Holy shit_? That’s it?”

Ben yanked his underwear back up and over his erection. It wasn’t going away – if anything, it was stretching up to his navel, as if it was proud of doing its evolutionary duty – but he had the sinking suspicion she wasn’t going to _do_ anything about it. He ran his hand through his hair. “You – you _just_ stopped the pill. It’s not – I mean, what are the odds?”

Rey’s eyes darted around the room. “I’m supposed to ovulate this week. We should have used a _condom_ , oh my God – we’re always so careful. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

They hadn’t been thinking. They’d been, for lack of a better word, distracted. Ben tried to reason with her. “Sweetheart, it’ll be okay – ”

“No, it won’t!” Rey said – or rather, wailed hysterically. “I’m twenty-four! I wanted – I wanted to freeze my eggs so we could have babies in – in five or six _years_.”

“Listen to me.” Ben snapped, grabbing her shoulders. He shook her a little. “Listen to me! You’re fine. You’re fucking fine. Everything is fine. _We’re_ fine. You don’t have cancer. You can still have kids. Nothing is wrong. Stop acting like something is _wrong_.”

Rey seemed shocked that he’d lost his temper. Fingers shaking, she drew his t-shirt down further, stretching it to cover her knees. She sucked in deep, gulping breaths. It was obvious that – to her –something _was_ wrong. It hurt Ben to realize that.

Breathing hard through his nostrils, he backed away from her. He went to the bedroom, got dressed, and went to fix what was wrong.

***

Rey showered and changed into her pajamas. She made tea and traced circles onto the granite pattern of the kitchen counter. The giddy happiness she’d felt after answering her doctor’s phone call was gone. She was anxious again. It was a different kind of anxiety. It wasn’t dreadful and crushing. It made her hands shake and her knees jiggle, almost like excitement.

Ben unlocked the door and peered in, as if he wasn’t sure whether she’d be crying or there at all. He was carrying a plastic bag. One by one, he drew three cardboard boxes from it.

One was labelled _Plan B_. The second, _First Response_. The third was a box of condoms. He lined them up neatly on the countertop in front of her. Extending his index finger and pointing to the first box, Ben told her, quietly and without judgment, “If you want to take it, you can.”

Rey looked at the cardboard box. It had only been three or four hours since they’d had unprotected sex. She’d never used a morning-after pill before, but she knew that it wasn’t too late. She could take it, and everything would be fine.

 _Everything is fine._ That’s what Ben had said, despairingly, as if he believed it and it devastated him that she didn’t. She wanted to believe him.

She picked up the second box. The cartoon silhouette of a pregnant woman graced the pink side of it. A pregnancy test wouldn’t be useful – one way or the other – for two or three weeks. She’d have to wait. She hated _not knowing_.

Rey set the pregnancy test down and picked up the box of condoms. They didn’t have any in the apartment – they hadn’t used them in over a year. “Condoms?”

Ben shrugged, helplessly. He looked resigned, as if he thought he would be sleeping on the couch for a few days. “On the off chance you still want to have sex with me...”

Rey fingered the flap on the top of the box. She couldn’t help but feel relieved. She still wanted him. “I do want to. Have sex with you, that is. And I want use condoms.”

She may have been imagining things, but she thought she saw disappointment flash across his face. In a conciliatory gesture, she pushed the Plan B across the table, towards him. “But I don’t want to use _this_.”

Ben’s jaw twitched. She knew he was thinking about the pregnancy scare they’d had months and months ago, when she’d threatened to have an abortion and he’d panicked and pleaded with her. “You don’t have to say that for my sake. It won’t end a pregnancy. It just – ”

“I know how it works.” Rey closed her eyes for a second. She wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did. It was irrational. “I just don’t want to. It… it means this was a mistake we can just undo. I mean, _doing it_ was a mistake but - I was a mistake. I don't want to think of a baby as a mistake ."

Ben exhaled so heavily that his shoulders sagged. He suddenly looked older than he was. She realized what a toll it had taken on him to leave this choice in her hands entirely. “Thank you.”

Rey made a soft noise of assent. They sat in silence for a while, thinking about the enormous consequences her decision could have.

When her tea was cold, Ben picked up the second box – the one labeled First Response. “What about this?”

Rey took a deep breath. The pink box was one she always ducked past in the grocery store, nervously. It seemed like something other people - people much unluckier, or much older - bought. “I supposed we’ll need it in a few weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to tell you I was suprised nobody picked up on the fact that they had unprotected sex at the end of the last chapter. A lot of women are fertile myrtle right after they get off of birth control (for some reason; maybe its just a placebo effect because they don't think they'll get pregnant that fast) soooo we will see... 
> 
> P.S. Low-grade lesions are not precancerous. They're fairly common and usually resolve on their own. Yay! I wouldn't do anything terrible to Rey, guys.
> 
> P.P.S. I made a quick revision to Ch. 12 - at this point in the story, chronologically, they've been together for 21 months, not 17 months.
> 
> P.P.P.S. Up next... sex and NACHOS!


	14. Nachos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: sex and nachos!, the l-word, kinky shit.
> 
> (This is a direction continuation of "The L Word.")

Leia was, in many respects, an ideal houseguest. She brought a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of expensive red wine with her. She was neat and quiet and didn’t snore. She made prime rib and pancakes.

She _also_ overstayed her welcome.

Rey was sensitive to the fact that her boyfriend’s mother was newly widowed and lived thousands of miles away from her only child. She was sexually frustrated, but she didn’t hold it against Leia. Instead, she took it out on Ben when Leia was in the shower. He nibbled on the side of her neck, kneading her hips through her sensible work clothes, and she _lost_ it.

“Benjamin!” She snapped. She’d taken to calling him that when she was upset with him – a habit his mother had. “ _Don’t you dare_ get me all worked up for nothing.”

Ben snorted, and kissed the back of her head. “I’m sensing some pent-up hostility – ”

Rey growled in the back of her throat, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest. “We haven’t had sex in six days.”

She knew he was as bent out of shape as she was. He’d been embarrassingly hard in the morning all week. He’d whisper apologetically to Rey that she needed to distract his mother while he ducked into the bathroom, took a shower, and took care of his morning wood.

“You’re a saint, babe.” Ben pecked her cheek, primly. Part of her wished he’d kissed her properly, even if she knew it would make her unproductive and distracted all day.

“The patron saint of sexual frustration.” Rey grumbled.

Ben laughed. He leaned closer to her as the shower stopped running. His voice went low and warm. It made heat coalesce in her abdomen. “I’m going to tie you up and keep you in bed for days when she leaves. You’re going to have to call in sick. We’re going to need that gag so the neighbors don’t hear – ”

The bathroom door creaked open. Under her breath, Rey hissed, red-faced, “God _damnit_ , Benjamin.”

***

“Are you still mad at me?” Ben asked, innocently, when Rey unexpectedly interrupted his lunch-hour fantasizing about her.  

“Mmm hmm.” Rey stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. “But I thought we could make out a little.”

Ben laughed. He looked over her shoulder; the door was ajar. He didn’t really care. He liked showing her off. He’d particularly like it if Finn walked by and saw her wrapped in his arms.

When her lips were plump, slick, and well-kissed, Rey leaned back against the brace of his forearms and played with his silk tie absently. “I like this tie.”

“You bought it for me.” Ben reminded her. She’d wrapped it haphazardly for Valentine’s Day. He’d appreciated her scribbled little note – there had been a messy heart drawn on the wrapping paper – immensely, but the raucous, naughty sex they’d had after exchanging gifts had been much more memorable.

Rey laughed. “I’m sorry for the boring gift.”

“Boring?” Ben unfastened the tie, snapped it between his hands and then reached around her body, winding the length of red silk around her wrists over and over. “You just don’t have any imagination.”

Rey’s eyes went wide. “Oh no.”

“Oh _yes_.” Ben knotted the tie behind her back. She crooked her elbows, trying to slip her wrists out, and her face went pink as she realized that she couldn’t.

She was still struggling as he locked the door, peering down the hallway first to see if anyone was lurking nearby. Her elbows trussed up like a chicken’s wings as she wriggled. “Benjamin!”

“Please don’t call me that during sex.” Ben told her, guiding her by her bound hands to his desk and trapping her against it with his body. “It reminds me of my mom. It’s kind of a mood killer.”

“Getting _fired_ is a mood killer.” Rey protested, weakly, as he crouched and reached up under her skirt for her panties. She was squirming and arguing, but her panties were tangled and damp. He tugged them down to her ankles and then kissed the backs of her knees. They buckled.

“I’m not going to get fired if you keep your mouth shut.” Ben stood up and unbuckled his belt, feeling an indecent thrill from his scalp to his toes when he heard someone laugh in the next office over. Somehow, the prospect of unemployment wasn’t enough to dampen his arousal. He’d fantasized about having public sex for ages; he should thank his mother for ensuring that Rey was sexually frustrated and more open-minded than usual. “Do I have to stuff that tie in your mouth?”

Rey didn’t answer. Her hips bumped against the desk as he scrunched up her skirt, pressing a hand to the nape of her neck to bend her over the stacks of papers and files on his desk. Some of them scattered; he didn’t care.

Both to tease her, and to reassure himself that she was as into this as he was, Ben asked, against her neck, “Sweetie?”

“You said to keep my mouth shut.” Rey’s voice was an airy whisper.

“Good girl.” Ben kissed her shoulder blade through her shirt. He lifted her higher and bent his knees, trying to catch the head of his cock in the cleft of her body. Her toes were barely on the ground. As inconvenient as it sometimes made the physics of sex, her smallness was incredibly erotic.

Her bound hands dug into his belly when he finally found the right angle and pressed into her. Her fingers untucked his dress shirt and wound into the fabric of it as he started to pump shallowly. As gentle as he was, the wood of the desk creaked under his weight.

Straightening up, Ben hooked his fingers in the knotted tie and thrust harder. It was quieter, that way. He could hear that tell-tale little hitch of Rey’s breath when he bottomed out in her, the rustle of their clothes, and the wet squelch of her cunt around his cock. Those sounds – those little details – were the most head-spinning part of sex with her. A perverse part of him wished the people talking out in the hallway could hear those little details, too.

Rey writhed against him, impatiently, and he realized, with a jolt, that if her hands weren’t bound, she would be touching herself. She was rubbing against the edge of the desk, making frustrated little sounds.

He ran one hand down her belly – when he fucked her from behind, he could feel himself through her body, and _that_ never got old. She nearly crushed his fingers between her hips and the desk. “Easy, babe.”

“Don’t _easy, babe_ me – ” Rey panted, imitating his voice. “I need – I need to –”

“You need this?” Ben asked, rubbing her clit through her bunched up skirt. His fingers were a little imprecise because of the folds of fabric, but she moaned softly, anyways, nodding over and over again until her head tipped back. Her mouth hung open but she didn’t wail or whimper as she came. She didn’t say his name. He wished she had. _Loudly._

“Want to come on your back.” He said, brokenly, his thrusts shaking the heavy desk. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet. He needed to come, _damnit_ , and he wanted to do so with wild abandon, not quiet restraint. “Make you walk around with my cum sticking your shirt to your skin all day.”

One of the desk drawers on the other side of the desk fell to the ground with a clatter. Startled by the noise, Ben paused for a moment. Rey tensed nervously, squeezing him inside of her. The strength and suddenness of his orgasm almost brought him to his knees. He braced himself on the edge of the desk, his back arching reflexively.

When he opened his eyes, he realized that her makeup was smeared all over on the memo he’d been working on.

***

Ben whistled cheerfully in the break room as he microwaved his lunch.

“You’re perky.” Hux commented, behind him. He was pecking at a salad and scrolling through his smartphone.

“I had my afternoon pick-me-up already.” Ben half-lied. He didn’t turn around. He was sure his old friend would see his smug, satisfied smile. They’d been friends since college; Hux could _always_ tell when he’d gotten laid.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Ben looked over his shoulder as the microwave dinged. “I meant I had _coffee_.”

“Even _your_ hair isn’t normally this messy.” Hux said, flatly. “And your tie is _mangled_.”

Ben looked around the break room. They were alone. He retrieved his lunch and plunked it down on the table. He grinned down at the melted cheese mess, unrepentant and unbearably self-satisfied. He couldn’t even _pretend_ to be embarrassed or ashamed. He crowed, “I just had sex and I’m about to eat nachos.”

“I should report you to human resources.”

“Have a nacho.” Ben held out a chip, cheese dangling from it. He was feeling magnanimous.

“I don’t like Velveeta.” Hux said, dryly.

Ben shrugged, eating the chip himself. As he chewed, he said, cheerfully, “You’re just jealous that I’m having hot, wild sex and nachos while you eat a salad and read about the midterm elections.”

“Salad is good for you.” Hux noted.

“So is sex.” Ben countered. He leaned back in his chair. “Good cardio.”

Hux groaned. “You’re eating _melted cheese_.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Ben sighed, happily. His stomach was happy, his cock was happy, and his heart was happy. “I love her.”

Hux’s brows shot up. There was a peculiar look on his face. “You _what_?”

“I love her.” Ben repeated, through a mouthful of nachos. Maybe it was the orgasm or the exhibitionism talking, but he meant it. He was too stubborn to say it first – as between himself and Rey – but he had to tell _somebody_ how he felt. If he didn’t, his heart would burst out of his chest. Hux was good at keeping secrets.

“Ben?”

Ben nearly fell out of his chair.

“I, uh… I accidentally picked up your cell phone.” Rey stammered, standing in the doorway of the break room. Her face was flushed. She’d tried to fix her hair and makeup, to no avail. She _looked_ as if she’d just had sex. She also looked mortified by what she’d overheard. “Instead of mine.”

“Oh.” Flushing, Ben stood up from the table in a hurry. He was suddenly self-conscious about his messy hair and his wrinkled shirt and the cheese on his chin. He fiddled with his belt and smoothed his hair down. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Rey said, awkwardly, holding the cell phone out. She hesitated for a second, and then blurted out, “I love you. Uh, goodbye.”

Ben forgot to take the cell phone for a moment. A grin split his face. “ _Hello_. I love you, too. I mean, goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Rey repeated, red-faced. “Hi, Hux.”

“Hi, Rey.” Hux said, with a little wave. “Bye, Rey.”

Rey gave him a nervous little smile and fled. Ben watched her go, feeling dazed. He _knew_ he was wearing a goofy smile. He expected Hux to mock him for it, or at the very least, to start laughing.

Hux didn’t. He fist-pumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux ships it. 
> 
> P.S. What to write next? Overgrown facial hair that Rey hates, prompt courtsey of hoshiakkari, a smutty prompt (with my own little twist added!) from lucid_h, or taking that pregnancy test?


	15. Hairy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: overgrown facial hair, jealous!Rey

Rey was well-acquainted with Ben’s stubble. It sprouted overnight and by morning it was short and prickly. He rubbed it against her neck and shoulder blades – and sometimes, between her thighs – until she grumbled and ducked under the covers.

Ben shaved every morning, without fail – even on Saturdays and Sundays. She loved those mornings. Sprawled in bed, she could watch him lean on the sink, lather up his cheeks, and inadvertently make a cute, pouty face in the mirror to stretch out the skin of his cheeks. He emerged from behind the hand-towel young and smelling like soap. She didn’t begrudge him kisses once he was clean-shaven.

Ben was a creature of habit. She could no more imagine him deviating from his grooming routine than she could imagine him dying his hair purple. She kissed his clean, smooth cheek, and caught a flight to Chicago.

Six days later, she walked right past him at LaGuardia. She didn’t recognize him, even though his height was uncommon and he was wearing the sweater she’d gotten him for Christmas (another boring gift, one he hadn’t managed to turn into an impromptu sex toy yet).

“Babe!” Ben waved with both arms above his head, beaming. His smile was familiar. The strip of dark hair above it and the patch of fuzz beneath it were not.

Rey gaped at him. “There’s something on your face.”

Ben kissed her, briskly. “I missed you, too.”

“No, you missed a spot. Two spots.” Rey traced his moustache and goatee, horrified. He’d sent her a few selfies late at night while she’d been away at the midwestern conference. Admittedly, the pictures _hadn’t_ been of his big head. They'd been of his little head. Now, she couldn’t help but think of the pubic hair that had been visible in the images. The hair on his chin looked strangely similar – coarse, messy, and nothing like the silky waves of hair she forbade him to cut above his ears.

“Do you like it?” Ben asked, innocently.

“I don’t… love it.” Rey said, haltingly. They had only reconciled and moved back in to her little apartment together a month prior. She was still on eggshells. She wondered if their relationship was too fragile for her say _your beard looks like pubes._

Ben shrugged. He fingered the coarse hair on his chin. “My ex-girlfriend did.”

Rey’s mouth dropped open for a second. Then, determined to be the _cool girl_ , unconcerned with ex-girlfriends or what they thought, she said, with effort, “I like it.”

The words tasted liked vinegar. Her boyfriend looked smug.

***

“ _Shave it_ , or I will, in your sleep.” Rey threatened, brandishing a razor.

“I thought you said you liked it.” Ben smoothed his moustache and goatee, looking for all the world like a villain in an old-timey movie.

Rey made a noise of impotent rage. She’d pretended to be ambivalent about his facial hair for three days – she’d even let him go down on her with that, that _thing_ growing on his face – but she was starting to get the sense he was growing it just to fuck with her. “I lied, okay? I _hate_ it. It tickles and it scratches and it – why are you _laughing_?”

“You seemed to like being _tickled_ well enough last night.” Ben grinned, waggling his head.

Rey sputtered, red-faced. He’d left red scores on her inner thighs. The feather-light brushes of his beard had been strangely exciting – it was as if she was having sex with a stranger – but now she itched, and he looked smug, and she _hated_ it. “You are not _tickling_ me again until you shave.”

***

Ben shaved. Somehow, that made the situation worse.

“You look like a porn star.” Rey wailed, when he came out of the bathroom, whistling. He’d shaved off his beard, but left his moustache alone. It sat proudly on his upper lip. 

Ben grinned, shamelessly. “I don’t just look like a porn star, I fuck like a –”

“A _seventies_ porn star.” Rey interrupted his dirty joke. They were supposed to be at a gallery in Tribeca for a cocktail party in an hour. She’d been looking forward to showing off her handsome, clean-shaven boyfriend.

“I was born in eighty-six.” Ben stroked his moustache and peered in the mirror hanging over their narrow fireplace. “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

***

“Everyone likes my moustache.” Ben told Rey, with an air of artistic superiority he must have picked up somewhere between the bar and the piece of modern art they were staring at.

“They’re hipsters, Ben.” Rey muttered, sipping her cocktail. “You’re not a hipster. You’re thirty-one.”

“ _Ben_?” A woman’s low, honeyed voice cut through the titter of pretentious art criticism echoing in the white-walled gallery.

Ben half-turned, brow rising. An exotic, slender brunette was leaning precariously towards him, as she’d been about to tap him on the shoulder. She was dressed in the artfully undressed way fashion models usually were. She was drinking whiskey, neat, the way Ben did.

“Baz.” Ben’s voice cracked; Rey’s ears pricked.

“You like modern art now?” Baz said, flashing impossibly white teeth.

“And moustaches.” Ben joked, lamely.

Baz laughed harder than the joke merited. She stood on her tip-toes in impossibly high stilettos and kissed Rey’s boyfriend’s cheek. As she drew away, she touched his moustache gently, with two fingers, as if she were _shushing_ him. “Your moustache is very sexy.”

There was a long, awkward silence. Rey realized that Baz ought to be forgiven for not realizing that they were a couple – she was miffed about the stupid moustache, so they were standing twelve inches apart. She couldn’t forgive Ben, though, for blushing and just _standing there_ like the bloody idiot he was.

“I hate it.” She heard herself saying, stiffly. This was the ex-girlfriend who liked him unshaven. She was sure of it. She should pretend to be the _cool girl_ , pretend to be unbothered and secure, but she couldn’t. The woman was _gorgeous_ and annoyingly open-minded about facial hair, to boot. She probably didn’t nag or criticize.

Baz looked at her as she hadn’t realized she was there. She laughed, nervously. “Oh.”

Exasperation tinging his voice, Ben said, “Baz, this is Rey Kenobi.”

“I hate modern art, too.” Rey said, before she could think better of it. In an odd way, she was trying to be funny. The joke fell flat.

“You sound like you need more booze.” Baz suddenly looked sympathetic. Rey hated her even more for being _nice_. “Do you drink whisky?”

“I hate whisky.”

“Is there _anything_ you don’t hate tonight?” Irritation crept into Ben’s voice.

Rey hadn’t forgiven him for introducing her as _Rey Kenobi_ and not _my girlfriend, Rey_. She felt hopelessly unsophisticated and huge next to this tiny, art-gallery-going woman. She knew it turned Ben on to loom over her, to stretch her out when he fucked her, to throw her around like she weighed nothing. This woman really _did_ look like she weighed nothing. He must have _loved_ that.

Rey had never had to compare herself to another woman before. She’d never met one of his ex-girlfriends. She had just assumed he sprung from the earth, a fully-formed lover. Baz had touched his face so sensually. She wondered whether she had taught him how to be a good lover. There wasn’t a single part of her that thought Ben capable of infidelity. She wasn’t afraid of what he would do. She was afraid of what he’d done. She was afraid he was making the same comparisons she was.

Rey realized both Baz and Ben – _fuck_ , their names even sounded good together – were staring at her. She cleared her throat. She was overcome with a mad urge to say something that would shock Baz and send her running. Something that would make it clear that all of Ben, from his porn star moustache to his toes, belonged to her, against all reason. “Uh, your… dick. I don’t hate your dick.”

Ben’s brows drew together. She’d expected him to laugh or to fake-laugh uncomfortably. He looked concerned. “How much have you had to drink, babe?”

A guilty thrill travelled up Rey’s spine. She didn’t particularly like pet names but she _did_ like the look of mortification on Baz’s offensively beautiful face when he said _babe_. “I’m sorry, am I embarrassing you?”

Her sarcasm was thicker than she intended it to be. Ben blinked at her, twice. He cocked his head to the side. For a horrible moment, Rey thought he was angry with her, or worse, that he really _was_ embarrassed by her. She’d behaved badly. She was a hypocrite.

Ben’s lips twitched. His eyes went soft and liquid. She realized that he _liked_ seeing her like this. It stroked his ego.  It reassured him. They had been so _careful_ around each recently.  “No, you adorable little idiot.”

“Water.” Baz murmured, diplomatically. She seemed to have concluded that they were both drunk. “I’ll get water.”

When they were alone, Ben’s lip-twitch metamorphized into a smile, the kind he wore she was angry and he thought it was cute. It was an indulgent, affectionate smile. Rey felt a fresh rush of shame for how she’d reacted to _his_ jealousy that night at the charity banquet. She understood it now, to a degree. 

“Ben – ”

“If you want me to wear a ring, you just have to ask.” He told her, without a trace of bitterness in his voice. 

Rey flushed. He hadn’t so much as hinted at engagement since their short-lived breakup. Her jealousy emboldened him, as if, since she loved him enough to say outlandish things _like I don’t hate your dick_ , he could talk about rings and marriage and forever. “I just want you to kiss me where everyone can see you doing it.”

Ben stepped closer to her. “Is _she_ watching?”

Rey stood on her tip-toes to look over his shoulder. “Yes.”

Wordlessly, Ben dipped her back and kissed her soundly. She’d hoped for an appropriate kiss – short, sweet, to the point. This was a wholly inappropriate kiss. His moustache tickled her. She hardly cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should write Serious Plotty Things; I just wanna write fluff and trash. Leave me a comment and reassure me that I'm not wasting my life.
> 
> P.S. Up next... "I would like for Rey to walk on Ben *ahem*relieving himself, if you know what I mean *insert pervy Mr. Bean Meme* because for whatever reason he can't or won't ask her to help him with his *situation* :D (I'm such a perv, hides her face behind her hands)". Thanks, lucid_h!


	16. Nudge

“You’re one centimeter dilated. About fifty percent effaced.” The owlish obstetrician said, happily. She leaned further in between Rey’s legs, fingers prodding uncomfortably. Rey studied the ceiling tiles. She would _never_ get used to people – plural – sitting in between her knees and poking at her. That was reason enough to dread labor. “I can feel the head.”

Ben grip suddenly went very tight on Rey’s hand. Nervously, she looked over at him. For weeks – thirty-seven weeks, to be exact – she’d been waiting for him to have his obligatory freak-out. She’d had hers.

Now, her husband looked vaguely ill. As the doctor rolled out from between the stirrups and stripped off her latex gloves, he looked at her fingers, down at his crotch, and then back again. His eyes were as big as saucers.

“Excuse me.” He managed, in a strangled, formal voice. “You can feel the baby’s head with your _finger_?”

***

As soon as the doctor left the examination room, Ben’s obligatory freak-out began in earnest. “I dick slapped my own baby.”

Rey sighed. She didn’t bother taking her feet out of the stirrups just yet. “Maybe I wasn’t effaced yet – ”

“We had sex _this morning_.” Ben was greenish, now.

“The baby is in an amniotic sac. It probably just felt like a little nudge.” Rey said, giggling. She felt a _little_ vindicated. He’d been calm and collected for thirty-seven weeks. Let him panic. “Like _hey, kiddo, get out of there_.”

Ben buried his face in his hands. She still wasn’t quite used to seeing the gold band on his finger. It glinted in the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital. “I nudged my baby in the face –”

Rey sighed. She was glad she hadn’t told him that she’d lost her mucus plug right _after_ they’d had sex. It had plopped, bloody and squishy, into the toilet, having been jostled around and loosened. She didn’t want to give him a coronary. “Can you stop being so dramatic – ”

“ – with my penis!”

“ – and help me get dressed?”

“No, wait.” Ben stepped in between the stirrups and scrunched up the paper gown under her breasts. Rey squeaked in surprise; he’d been between her legs plenty – she was heavily pregnant, after all – but she still felt vulnerable and exposed in this position.

Her husband bent double, bracing his elbows on the crinkly paper of the exam table. He pressed a kiss to the stretched-out spot right above her navel.

“Daddy didn’t mean to nudge you, baby. You stay right where you are.” He nuzzled the darkened line that ran down the center of her abdomen, bisecting it. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

Rey laughed, the force of it jiggling her enormous, distended belly, and then stopped short. Her knees, still akimbo, twitched. “Wait, _what_?”

***

True to his word, Ben didn’t do _it_ again. Rey knew she wasn’t particularly enticing – swollen-ankled, grumpy, gassy, rotund, stretch-marked, leaking, hormonal, the adjectives went on and _on_ – but it hurt her feelings nonetheless. They hadn’t been married for very long; newlyweds were supposed to have lots of sex.

Ben always initiated sex. He begged and bargained for it. Having an in-utero audience hadn’t deterred him. They’d had to contort themselves into increasingly awkward positions the bigger her belly got and he’d learned the hard way that he had to be _very_ careful with her nipples. Ever the diligent husband, he’d pursued her relentlessly – until now.

Five days after their thirty-seven-week check-up, Rey swallowed her pride. She perched on his lap on the couch; he winced a little. She’d gained thirty-eight pounds. Her pride was already wounded, so she soldiered on, kissing his neck artlessly. 

Ben put his hands on her waist – well, what was left of her waist – and pulled back. “Do you want a back rub?”

“Is that a euphemism?” Rey batted her lashes. She was huge and hormonal, but at least her breasts were bigger. She _could_ seduce him, god damnit.

“No.” Ben chuckled, ducking his head to kiss her shoulder with a great deal of affection but no lust.

Rey found his ear under his hair. She traced it with her tongue. “I heard sex can induce labor.”

That backfired. Ben frowned. “But you’re not full term.”

Rey wondered whether they’d switched bodies – these were _his_ lines. This was his role to play. He was the one who charmed and wheedled his way into bed with her and she was the one who played hard to get. “It’s never going to be just the two of us again, Ben. Our sex life will never be the same. We’re never going to sleep through the _night_.”

Ben shifted, uncomfortably, underneath her. She half-expected to feel an erection; she didn’t. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want to traumatize our baby.”

“Is this because of the dick nudge thing?” Rey huffed. She knew it _was_ , but a traitorous part of her wondered if it was because she was fat and puffy and unattractive to him.

Ben sighed, tilting his head back onto the back of the couch. “I don’t want to traumatize _me_.”

Rey tried to stand up and stomp off dramatically. She half-fell off Ben’s lap, instead. Her belly made her clumsy. Her righteous stomp was more of a waddle. He probably would have laughed at how ridiculous she looked, but she snapped, “Maybe you shouldn’t look when the baby comes out of my fucking vagina then!”

“Rey – ”

They didn’t live in a studio apartment anymore; there was a door to slam, and she did.

***

It added insult to injury when she caught him masturbating the next day. She gripped her yoga mat – she hated prenatal yoga, but she’d do anything to keep her hips loose – and stopped short in the doorway. If he was embarrassed by what he was doing – laying naked on their bed, damp towel cast aside, hair still wet – he didn’t let on.

Rey knew she shouldn’t ask – she didn’t want to know – but she asked anyway. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” Ben’s voice was hoarse. His hand moved efficiently up and down his shaft. He didn’t stop to explore nooks and crannies or tease, like she would, if she was the one jerking him off. He was single-minded. “You’re so hot.”

“I was.” Rey looked down at her belly, regretfully. She was wearing his t-shirt, it was stretched out. She was enormous.

“You _are_.” Ben moistened his lips. His eyes trained on her belly. His hand didn’t slow down. “So _fucking_ hot.”

Bewildered, Rey looked down at the bulge of her midsection; it was beach-ball sized, now. She looked at the red, engorged head of his cock. The shiny drop on its tip didn’t lie. “Me?”

Ben let out a strangled laugh, his hips bucking up. His left hand spread out on the sheets. His nails dug into the mattress. “Uh-huh.”

Rey perched on the foot of the bed, rubbing her stomach thoughtfully. She wanted to ask him why – if she was so fucking hot – he wouldn’t just have sex with her. She had the feeling he would go off on a tangent about poking his baby in the head with his penis and that would ruin the mood – or rather, _his_ mood. And he _was_ in a mood. His breath was coming in short little puffs. “You could have asked for a blow job.”

Ben’s chuckle was airy. He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering closed. “You’re almost thirty-eight weeks pregnant; I think you would have bitten my dick off.”

The steady _slap slap slap_ of his hand on the abused skin of his member was hypnotizing. Rey watched him masturbate, her mouth hanging slightly open. Against all reason, she was excited by it. She tugged at the neck of the borrowed t-shirt. “Do you want to look at my boobs?”

Ben’s gaze didn’t drift up towards said boobs; it was fixed on the stretch of his t-shirt over her belly. “Let me see your tummy.”

Rey almost laughed; then, she realized he was dead serious. She was terribly self-conscious about her belly. It wasn’t a cute little bump anymore. It was huge. People didn’t coo over it and tell her what a _cute preggo_ she was. Their eyes got wide and they asked if she was carrying twins.

Even if it was proof of his virility, she couldn’t quite believe that he found it sexy.

Ben’s eyes dilated as she drew her shirt up under her breasts with both hands. He might have had a hang-up about penetrative sex now that the baby was in the birth canal, but the twitch of his cock in his grip meant that he didn’t have _any_ hang-ups about her belly. If anything, he had a kink.

“I did that.” His voice was raw with masculine pride. “ _Me_. That’s mine.”

Rey almost corrected him – _ours_ – but he was suddenly in the throes of orgasm. Normally, he threw his head back or closed his eyes as he rode it out. This time, the muscles of his neck strained as he arched off the bed, staring straight at her. His knuckles were white on his cock. They were coated in white, too, as his milky cum spurted onto his belly.

Leaning over, Rey braced herself on one arm. Her center of gravity was different; she nearly fell on top of her panting, sated husband. With clumsy, curious fingers, she mopped up his hot cum, swirling it around on his belly.

When she lifted her fingers to her mouth, Ben stopped her. His hand was sticky. His voice was little more than a croak. “Don’t.”

“I don’t mind.” She didn’t; she was inexplicably aroused.

Stubbornly, Ben tugged her hand away from her wet, waiting mouth. “Ingesting semen can start labor.”

“You spend too much time on the internet, Ben.” Rey wiped her fingers off on his chest, obligingly, playing with his nipple. His breath hitched happily as he sunk back into the pillows.

Feeling strangely satisfied - despite the fact that she hadn’t gotten off, she’d just watched him get off – Rey curled up next to him, watching his semen dry on his skin. He wiped his messy hand on the sheets before he cupped the curve of her belly. Somehow, no matter how big she got, his hands were big enough to hold her. “Stay in there for two more weeks, little dude.”

“Little dude?” Rey asked, skeptically. She wouldn’t mind if the _little dude_ – or little girl – was born early. She couldn’t see her own _toes_. She briefly contemplated holding Ben down and lapping up his cum to see if his theory about semen and labor was valid.

“I think it’s a boy.” Ben told her, seriously, tapping her navel gently. “At least, I hope it is.”

“Ben!” Rey protested. They had asked the ultrasound technician not to point out the baby’s anatomy. They had bought yellow and green and gray onesies. They had a boy name and girl name. They liked them both. They didn’t care which one would be written on the birth certificate – or so she thought.

“What?” Ben laughed, awkwardly. “I poked him in the head with my _dick_. He better be a boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like writers idealize pregnant sex (myself included) but people have weird hang-ups when it comes to fetuses being "there" for intercourse! Also... surpise! They're married! They're pregnant! The question is, how far in the future is this chapter? Did they accidentally get pregnant back in Ch. 12? Did they have a shotgun wedding? Or is this much farther in the future? 
> 
> P.S. The other pressing question is, what am I doing with my life? *head in hands* 
> 
> P.P.S. Up next... how did Ben find out about Rey's parents? (thanks, flugurnar!)


	17. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ben finds out about Rey's parents.

Diana was a stay-at-home-mum. Christopher was a dentist. Diana cooked shepard’s pie and Christopher admired Churchill. They lived in a modest red-brick rowhouse in Hounslow. They’d been perfectly content to have an only child. They were voted Labor. They, very conveniently, did not understand how to use the internet and hated calling long-distance because it was expensive.

That was convenient because Diana and Christopher didn’t exist.

The greying, smiling pair were figments of Rey’s imagination – or rather, products of her panic when her new boyfriend asked, guilelessly, “What are your parent’s names?”

“Diana and Ch – .” Rey blurted out, before she could think better of it. “Christopher.”

She’d almost said _Charles_ , and that would have been a dead giveaway.  Her imaginary parents were British, of course, and Diana and Charles were the quintessential British couple.

Theirs was a newborn, precarious relationship. Ben gave her space; Rey played hard to get. They stubbornly went home alone to their respective apartments on weeknights, not wanting to be too clingy. Sometimes, Ben caved and came over in the middle of the night to sleep _with_ her or just to sleep in the same bed as her. Sometimes, he called her as soon as they parted ways, and they talked all night.

This was one such conversation; Rey should have known it would wander, eventually, into uncomfortable territory.

“Do Diana and Christopher live in Lon-don?” Ben imitated her accent. She could hear him smiling through the telephone.

Rey tried to change the subject. “Are you mocking me?”

“ _Mocking you_?” Ben laughed. “God, I love the way you say things.”

Rey shifted on her mattress. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her pumps and skirt before she’d laid down to study the ceiling and pick his brain. “What do you mean?”

“I was _making fun_ of you.” Ben explained. “Not _mocking you_. You call cookies _biscuits_. And sweaters _jumpers_. And – ”

“And I call you a wanker.” Rey interrupted, without any acid in her voice. She knew her liked her accent – it made him all moonstruck – so she wasn’t offended by his teasing.

“A _what_?”

“A wanker.” Rey paused. “You know, like – like, a wanker.” Rey made the universal gesture for masturbation, even though he couldn’t see her. “Like jerking off.”

Ben snorted. “I’m going to _wank_ myself raw after you hang up.”

Rey laughed. She believed him; she’d probably do the same. Her slender purple vibrator was a decent substitute when she was too stubborn to ask him to spend the night. His deep voice, crackling over the phone, made her belly twitch and her fingers fumble in the bedside drawer. “You’re awful.”

“Do you mean _naughty_?”

  
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means.” Rey told him, gently.

“What does it mean?” Ben prodded.

“It means that you behave badly but _not_ in bed.”

Ben’s voice dropped an octave. “What about what we do in bed? What do you call that?”

“Shagging.”

“That is the _least_ sexy word I have ever heard.”

Rey pressed her advantage. She had changed the subject and changed it thoroughly. “How about snogging? Or willy? Or knickers or pants or minge or fanny?”

“ _Willy_?” Ben sounded incredulous. “Is that what you call my dick?”

Rey groaned. He was a typical male – fixated on her impression of his penis. Sarcastically, she said, “No, I call it Prince Harry.”

Ben barked in laughter. For a moment, she thought she’d ruined the moment. She’d never been with a man who liked to laugh during sex before. Then, he asked, perfectly seriously, “Can his royal highness come over?”

***

Ben lifted his head from between her hip-bones when they were done _shagging._ He had a glassy-eyed, satisfied smirk on his face. “I want to meet your parents.”

Rey blinked down at him, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair. “You do?”

“Yes.” Ben kissed her navel. His tongue darted into it. “I want to shake their hands and lie to their faces and say that my intentions are completely honorable.”

Rey laughed, tugging a pillow over her face. Under it, she let her smile fall. Ben’s intentions – good as they might be – were going to expose her for the liar she was.

She could tell him the truth – he was particularly difficult to rile after sex, the endorphins making him pliant and sweet – and hope he didn’t think she was crazy. Instead, she said, lifting the pillow off her face, “They don’t like to hop the pond.”

That was the right thing to say – it was a British expression. It distracted Ben. “ _Fuck,_ that is so sexy.”

***

“I have to meet them eventually.” Ben told her, three weeks later, after peppering her with questions about Diane and Christopher.

“Why?” Rey asked, exasperated. 

As if it was obvious, Ben said, “I have to ask for your father’s blessing before I propose.”

Rey choked. They’d been dating for two months. They were losing the battle of wills and spending most nights together, now, but it was too soon to say things like that. “Oh.”

Ben’s cheeks colored. “Too, uh, too soon?”

“Yes.” Rey said, weakly.

“I was… joking?” Ben tried to soften the blow, his cheeks dark pink by now.

“You were serious.” Rey chided, both deeply uncomfortable and thrilled by that realization.

“I was serious.” Ben admitted. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I _am_ serious about you.”

***

A week later, Rey found an envelope propped against the mirror. Ben was whistling in the shower. When she opened the envelope and shrieked, he poked his head out. He was much too large for her narrow stall.

“These are plane tickets to London.” Rey waved the papers in the air as if he didn’t know what they were – as if he hadn’t gone behind her back and purchased them.

 Ben grinned, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “You’d better _ring_ Diana and Christopher and tell them we’re coming.”

Rey took a deep breath. She leaned back on the sink. “Maybe you should sit down for this.”

Ben ran his hand down his slick chest. “In the shower?”

Before she could lose her nerve, Rey blurted out, “My parents’ names aren’t Diana and Christopher.”

Ben ducked back into the shower and turned the spray off. He stepped into the bathroom fully nude and dripping. “What, are their names Diana and Christine? Are they gay or something? I don’t care.”  

Rey chewed her lip and tasted blood. Even the sight of his naked body couldn’t distract her. Ben wiped his chest off with a towel, not bothering to wrap it around his waist. He was utterly comfortable being naked in front of her. It struck her that he was utterly comfortable in all ways because he didn’t keep secrets from her.

“I haven’t got them.”

“Their names?” Ben asked, brow creasing.

“Parents.” Rey managed. “I mean – I must have had them once, because here I am, but I don’t have them anymore. I wish I could tell you that my parents would love you but I don't even think they loved me." 

Now that sex was obviously out of the question, Ben wrapped the towel around his waist. He ran his hand over his hair, sending droplets flying. His jaw worked nervously. “I… um. I thought you just didn’t want me to meet them.”

“I’ve never met them.” Rey dug her nails into her palms. She thought he’d be angry; he just seemed disappointed – whether he was disappointed that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth or disappointed that he would never get to meet her parents, she couldn’t tell.

“I wish…” Ben stopped himself briefly. “I wish you had told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Rey whispered. “It’s… personal.”

Ben looked at her sharply. “We’ve been having sex for three months. That’s fucking _personal_.”

Rey looked at her feet, miserable and ashamed. She knew that he knew why she had invented Diana and Christopher. She hadn’t wanted to tell him something so private and painful if their relationship was going to just fizzle out like all the rest.

“I’ll cancel our flights.” Ben said, finally. He wouldn’t look at her.

“No.” Rey stammered. “I want to show you were I come from."

Ben's face softened. He looked at her like he _loved_ her and it scared the shit out of her. She rushed to explain. She didn't want him to have any illusions. "It’s a childen's home in East London, not a red brick rowhouse. The food is awful and the walls are mildewed. It rains a lot in England."

Ben leaned forward and kissed her forehead in the way a parent never had. "The rain doesn't bother me one bit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next... are there two lines or one on tht pregnancy test?


	18. One Line

Rey left the pregnancy test on the kitchen counter. It loomed large for such a little box. It was the elephant in the room when they ate their cereal and drank their coffee. It was an eyesore – it was pink, unlike anything else in their apartment. Rey didn’t like pink. She favored neutrals. Ben favored black and gray.

Rey wondered whether, if she was pregnant with a daughter, she would buy everything pink – pink onesies, pink stuffed animals, pink bows. Pink little socks, suited for the little feet of a little girl.  

She caught herself, a spoon of cereal halfway to her mouth. Her cheeks flushed – _pink_. She didn’t even like pink. She wasn’t ready for a baby. Not yet. Not _quite_ yet.

With a groan, she dropped her spoon. It clattered onto the countertop and splattered milk everywhere. Alarmed, Ben blinked at her over his coffee. He was still bleary-eyed, in that adorable way he was when he stayed up too late binge-watching Netflix or binge eating her out.

Rey took hold of the elephant by its ears. She grasped the pink both and marched to the bathroom. It had been thirteen days, she’d had a cup of coffee, she could _pee on a damn stick_.

“Rey, wait.” Ben spilled his coffee in his hurry. He caught up with her and wrapped her in his arms, pressing his chin to her shoulder. His heartbeat thrummed through her shoulder-blades, and she realized that he was as nervous as she was.

Ben pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head, mussing her hair, and then let her go. He went into the bedroom. Rey lingered in the doorway, playing anxiously with the cardboard flap of the pink box. He took a bundle of socks out of the dresser drawer. His dexterous, long fingers fumbled as he unwound it. Another box – this one small, gray, and velvet – fell into his hand from within the black dress sock.

He approached her slowly, as if he was afraid she would run. She couldn’t have. Her knees buckled. “I want to do _this_ before you do _that_.”

Rey choked a little. Her voice sounded funny. “You want to propose before I pee on a stick?”

“I _want_ to propose before I _have_ to.”

Rey swallowed hard. “If I’m pregnant, you - you don’t _have_ to propose.”

“Yes, I do.” Ben flicked the box open. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the ring. “It’s the right thing to do.” He must have seen her stricken face, because he joked, gently, “We can get married tomorrow and pretend our baby is a _huge_ preemie.”

Rey choked out a nervous laugh. “Huge?”

“Like me.” Ben half-smiled.

Rey leaned on the door-frame, regarding him. He _was_ huge. Her waistline be damned, she wanted a son who was as huge as him. She wanted a son who insisted on doing the right thing and believed in old-fashioned institutions like marriage. She wanted a son who was patient and fiercely protective. She wanted a son _exactly_ like him.

Ben snapped the ring box shut. “You don’t have to say yes.”

“What?” Rey wished she’d looked at the ring, now. She wished she hadn’t hesitated.

“You don’t have to say yes.” Ben repeated. He didn’t look angry. He looked, strangely enough, at peace. “I just wanted to ask now, so you know that I’m not just asking because it’s the right thing to do.”

***

Rey cried, sitting on the toilet, when a single blurry line materialized on the pregnancy test.

Drawn and tight-lipped, Ben took the narrow, white plastic test from her and looked at it. His brow creased. His gaze flickered between the tears on her cheeks and the single line. “There’s only one line.”

Rey sniffed and nodded. She wrapped her arms around her knees, inexplicably disappointed. She’d been abandoned as a baby; some part of her wanted a baby to fiercely protect and endlessly love and _never_ abandon.

Ben looked at her for a long moment, searchingly. Then, his face creased into a smile. “You wanted there to be two lines.” Rey hid her face in her folded knees and arms, embarrassed. Crooning, Ben crouched in front of her and pried her hands away from her face. “It’s okay to be disappointed.”

“I thought _you_ would be disappointed.” Rey mumbled.

Ben’s hand – it had been stroking her knee in little circles – tightened on her thigh. “Is that why you’re crying? You didn’t want to disappoint me?”

“No.” Rey hadn’t been crying – not really, her eyes had been watering traitorously – but now she was, in earnest. It was embarrassing and hard to admit the truth. _She_ was disappointed.

“I still want to marry you, if that’s what you’re crying about.” Ben sounded perfectly sincere. She didn’t doubt him. He’d had that ring stashed away long before this pregnancy scare.

“I don’t want you to _propose_. I want – I want…” Rey’s breath hitched. In truth, she couldn’t quite articulate what she was crying about. Adrenaline, relief, and disappointment made a potent cocktail. “Why are you _smiling_ , you asshole?”

Ben didn’t take the bait; he knew she lashed out when she couldn’t process her own feelings. His hands cupped her cheeks. She thought she’d never seen him look so happy. “You want my babies. You really do.”

“Oh, shut up.” Rey grumbled, hiding her face again.

***

Rey didn’t refill her birth control prescription when it expired two months later. She told Ben it was because she hated the side effects.  When the box of condoms was empty, Ben gave her a hopeful little look, tapping its hollow side with his index finger.

She bought more. She still couldn’t manage to do that without blushing. She would have liked to ask him to buy them – he was utterly shameless, fist-bumping the clerk as he paid – but she knew what he would say. He would say those words that made her belly do funny, flip-flopping things – _I want to make a baby with you_.

Then, inevitably, he would try to propose.

“I want to put a ring on your finger before I put a baby in you.” He told her, on their second anniversary, when, fortified by four glasses of wine, she told him that maybe – _maybe_ – on their third anniversary, they could start _trying_. She didn’t have to tell him what they would be _trying_ to do. Pregnancy was always at the forefront of his mind. He made faces at babies on the subway and sighed melodramatically when they passed a playground.

She hadn’t let him propose on their second anniversary. He’d tried. He’d had his sock drawer open when she stopped him.

“I’m not a patient man.” He’d grumbled, as she’d tugged him by his collar to bed.

“I’m not patient, either.” Rey had told him, her voice laced with innuendo.

She was becoming less and less patient as the months dragged on. They’d been dating for twenty-six months. She folded his laundry for him on occasion, but she didn’t put his clean socks away. She didn’t want to open the sock drawer. She knew what was in there.  

Rey tossed the last pair of clean, bundled dress socks into the hamper. Ben wouldn’t be home for another hour or so. He would put away his socks wordlessly. He would sift through his socks, his large frame hunched over the drawer. The curve of his huge back would look almost apologetic. She would feel badly for making him put his own socks away, and for having so much emotional baggage.

Chewing her lip, Rey crossed the bedroom. Ears ringing, she found the sock bundle that was suspiciously lumpy and fished the little gray boy out. She knew there was a diamond ring inside but the glint of the stone still startled her. She stared at it for a long moment, and then pried it out of the satin clutches of the ring box.

“Fuck!” Her nerves got the better of her; she dropped the ring. She fell to her knees and fished under the dresser for it. For an awful moment, she thought she’d lost it.

The ring, once she retrieved it, winked enticingly in her palm. Rey didn’t wear jewelry – the exception being the necklace Ben had gifted her for the six monthaversary – but she couldn’t help but wonder how it would look on her finger.

The band slid with some difficulty over her knuckle. The diamond twinkled at her from its perch on her finger. It wasn’t ostentatious. It was elegant – far more elegant than her dry cuticles and chewed nails warranted.

She liked the way the ring looked on her finger, more than she cared to admit. Embarrassed – even though she was alone – Rey tried to take the band off.

It wouldn’t come off.

***

When Ben came home from work, Rey hid her hand behind her back and wore an incredibly guilty expression. He leaned in to kiss her, saw her pink cheeks, and asked, warily, “What did you do?”

Biting her lower lip, Rey showed him her left hand. It was slick with butter or oil. She was wearing the engagement ring he’d had hidden in his drawer for months. “I'm sorry, I was just curious – I tried it on.”

Ben’s mouth went dry. “It… It looks good on you. You should keep it.”

“I can’t get it off!” Rey’s cheeks darkened. “I tried using a string, soap, butter…”

Ben took her hand in his, examining the way the slim, twisted band hugged her finger and the light caught the round diamond. He’d agonized over the purchase – Hux had brought a flask to the jewelers and polished it off by the time he’d picked a diamond – but now he realized that it didn’t _matter_ what the ring looked like. It could have been a loop of string or a cracker jack ring. What mattered what that she was wearing a ring – _his_ ring. “I guess you’re going to have to marry me.”

“That isn’t funny.” 

“It isn’t a joke.” Ben kissed each of her fingers, saving her ring finger for last. She tasted like butter; she’d tried to slick up her finger with the slippery substance to take the too-tight band off her finger. Her never wanted her to take it off. He'd sized it too small; it was the best mistake he'd ever made. “Marry me, Rey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What next, friends? I have a few things in mind - house-hunting, trying to concieve, the wedding, the secret drawer... but your ideas are ALWAYS better. This chapter was made possible by a prompt!


	19. Put a Ring On It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ... not that kind of ring.

Ben made dinner, washed the bedsheets, vacuumed, walked the dog, watered their intrepid houseplants, and collected the mail. It was their eighth monthaversary. He looked very proud of himself.

Rey was dejected. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She _hadn’t_ expected him to spend a great deal of money or embarrass her with flowery words or grand gestures. She hadn’t expected him to become a _domestic goddess,_ either. She’d hinted – leaving sexy panties on the floor by his side of the bed, sending him a text message intended to make him blush and squirm under his desk – that she wanted him to act like a sex god.

“I put extra garlic in the mashed potatoes.” Ben took her bag and coat, kissing her sweetly. He tasted like chocolate; he’d been baking and sneaking tastes of cake batter. _Baking_ , for God’s sake. “Just for you, babe.”

Rey played with her mashed potatoes as they ate dinner. They _were_ perfect – creamy, garlicy as hell, buttered. _He_ was perfect. He cooked, he cleaned, he enthusiastically gave oral sex.

“What’s wrong?” He was intuitive, too.

Rey exhaled in a whoosh. She wasn’t particularly good at communicating – in _or_ out of bed. She was going to have to just rip the band-aid off and hope he didn’t howl in pain. “We’re… we’re like a married couple.”

Ben’s ears pricked. He looked almost pathetically hopeful. “Married?”

Rey made a face. “We’re boring and old.”

Ben chuckled. “You’re twenty-four.”

“You’re _thirty-one_.”

“That’s not old.” Ben protested. “And I’m not boring.”

“You had a hangover after three glasses of wine last weekend.” Rey said, despairingly. “You – you went bed at ten o’clock last night. We had sex in the _missionary position_ last night _and_ the night before.”

Ben set down his fork, looking very affronted now that she’d questioned his bedroom prowess. “I’m _not_ boring, Rey.”

Rey tried to soothe the sting of the ripped-off band aid with a joke. She knew it was unfair to criticize him when he was _so_ perfect, but she was needy for something she couldn’t quite articulate. “Did you make really boozy tiramisu instead of plain chocolate cake?”

Ben gnawed his lower lip. He fiddled with his fork. “You – you have to promise not to laugh.”

***

There was a narrow, deep drawer – the bottom-most drawer – in Ben’s walnut roll-top desk. Ben crouched next to the drawer and gestured for her to join him. “Close your eyes.”

Rey obliged; he took her hand and sunk it into the dark drawer. She felt oddly as if she was picking a prize out of a bag. She was met with something cold and steely. Surprised, she scrabbled at it. It rolled away from her, and her fingers caught, instead, on something smooth and silky and circular.  

“Is this…” Rey opened her eyes “Is this what I think it is?”

Ben turned a pretty shade of pink – pink to match the silicon loop. Its circumference was suspiciously similar to that of his member, and a nubby little appendage bulged on one side of it. “It’s a, uh, a cock-ring.”

Ben said the word _cock_ plenty – sometimes when he was putting his _cock_ in her cunt or asking her to suck it; sometimes when he was grouching about his coworkers – but he turned pink, nonetheless. Rey nearly burst out laughing; then she remembered her promise. 

 “I like your face when it gets all red.” She said, her voice strangled with the effort of not laughing.

Without flinching or blinking, Ben said, “I’d like your face all sticky with my cum.”

“Ben!” Rey laughed, now, self-consciously. “It’ll get in my eyes.”

Ben rested his hand on the top of the open drawer. His fingers curled gently against the wood. “Not if you wear a blindfold.”

Rey blinked at him. “A blindfold?”

Ben’s lips twitched. “You picked something to play with; I get to, too.” Rey hesitated, then leaned over the drawer. Ben tried to stop her. His arm was a warm band around her belly. “You already picked yours.”

“That’s not _fair_ , I didn’t get to look.” Rey grumbled.

Ben held up his hands in surrender.

Satisfied, Rey peered into the drawer. It was half-full and disorganized. Jumbled inside, for lack of a better word, were sex toys. There were two bottles of lube – a different brand than they usually used – and a long, black feather. There were soft, padded handcuffs and a crop that looked decidedly un-soft. There was a vibrator that was obviously a vibrator – it was shaped like a penis – and one that was an odd curved shape. There was a red gag and, _yes_ , a blind-fold. There was a long string of silicon beads that looked like some sort of torture device – even moreso than the crop. “What are _these_?”

Ben laughed, and she suddenly felt very young and naïve. “You pull them out of – ”

“Oh, never mind.” Rey dropped the beads, scandalized.

“Who’s boring now?” Ben sat back on his heels, triumphant. She realized that his cock was tenting the front of his pants. “Pick one.”

“Just one?” Rey wrinkled her nose.

“ _Christ_ , woman.”

“The cock-ring.” Rey decided she had had beginner’s luck when she’d blindly picked a sex toy. The cock-ring seemed straightforward. “How hard could it be?”

Ben spun the silicon loop on his longest finger. “Pun intended?”

***

A shit-eating grin on his face, Ben laced his fingers behind head and stretched out on their bed, naked. In one hand, he was holding a crumpled-up blindfold. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to put in on her. That was just as well – Rey had no idea how to put a cock ring on.

He smirked, as if he was pleased that he’d made her eat her words.

Well, she _wouldn’t_. Rey straddled his legs and, with some effort, stretched the ring around the bulbous head of his cock. The slick of precum darkened the pink silicon and helped it slide down his shaft until it was nestled into his pubic hair.

Rey cocked her head, watching the soft, well-loved skin of his penis turn ruddy and dark. The veins that swirled around it grew more pronounced. She’d put the ring on askew; the nubby bit that she understood ought to vibrate was pressed against his thigh.

“Does it go – ” Rey flushed, trying to spin the ring to adjust the vibrating appendage. The fit was a little snug to do that; the veins in his cock pulsed. “Here, or here?”

Ben took her hips in her hands and drew her towards him. The turgid, moist head of his cock prodded at her cunt. When he bottomed out in her, the nubby bit pressed against the top of her sex.

“Oh.” Rey managed, when he pressed the inset button on the top of the ring. It buzzed, gently, against her clit. Her thighs tightened, instinctively, around his hips. “Uh, there.”

Ben made a low, rumbling sound in his chest. He dug his fingers into her hips, playing with the thin layer of fat on her sides as she rocked, hissing and flinching every time the vibrating ring pressed against her clit. It felt so good it almost hurt – the steady, incremental buzz against her nerve bundle and the equally steady ingress and egress of his dick.

She’d wondered if it hurt _him_. He looked almost beatific. The base of his cock was vibrating inside of her ever-so-slightly, like a finger strumming a guitar string. After a few moments, his low groan punctuated the faint buzzing and rhythmic squelching. He gripped her ass in both palms, spanked the left cheek, and then _ground_ her down onto the ring and onto him.

“Too much, too much.” Rey babbled, trying to wriggle away. The buzzing almost ached. Mercilessly, he held her in place and pumped up into her. His nostrils flared with triumph when she squealed and convulsed, the buzzing little torture device pushing up the hood of her clit and pushing her over the edge of ecstasy.

“Too much.” She repeated, faintly.  

With a little laugh, Ben bodily rolled her over, pulling out and yanking the still-buzzing ring off his erection. It was sticky and wet. He straddled her belly and pressed it to her mouth. “Clean it off.”

Rey obeyed, running her tongue carefully along the inner rim of the ring. It somehow tasted both salty and brand new. His cock was almost touching her chin. It was red, swollen, and tacky at the tip. She stuck her tongue through the silicon ring and licked its tip.

Ben shuddered and grabbed her hair. He held her in place, his eyes fixed on her mouth. His other hand stretched the silky blindfold around her head. It covered her forehead like a bandana. “Take a good look.”

Rey stared at his cock, mesmerized by the droplet of precum hanging off its tip. It dangled, tantalizingly. She wanted to lick it up, but he was holding her in place. He tugged the blindfold down over her eyes, and the world went dark.

The drop of precum she’d been watching must have broken off. It fell onto her chest. The rough pad of Ben’s finger rubbed it into her skin. His hand skimmed across her torso and pinched her nipple so hard she sucked in a deep breath.

The bed creaked; Ben’s weight moved further down her body. His palms pressed her breasts together, rubbing them roughly. His penis nestled in between them, damp and heavy on her sternum. She was too flat-chested for him to fuck into her cleavage. He was an ass man; he didn’t care that she wasn’t particularly well-endowed. She would never have seen _this_ coming – either literally or figuratively.

She was sure her breasts were bruised by the time the fat head of his cock pressed against her lips. She choked on it as he pressed it into her mouth, inch by inch, until her eyes watered under the blindfold. The soft, sticky skin of his balls brushed her jaw. That shouldn’t have surprised her; it had been bobbing in her face. His hands cupped her ears as he fucked her mouth.

“Fuck.” Ben’s voice was a disembodied, aroused thing. “Suck it, please, please, please.”

Rey hollowed out her cheeks, obligingly. The suction was enough to stop his hips from pummeling her in the face. He grunted happily, and then suddenly, she was slack-jawed and empty mouthed. She realized, with a thrill, that she didn’t know where he was going to blow his load – in her cunt? On her breasts? On her face?

She shut her mouth just in time. Hot ribbons coated her cheeks and nose and the silk of the blindfold. She knew what his face looked like when he orgasmed – he threw his head and grimaced, mouth hanging open. She wondered if he had fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch his cum spurt onto her face.

Even wearing a blindfold, Rey _knew_ Ben was watching her, gauging her reaction. She’d never let him do that before. He hadn’t asked permission.

She opened her mouth and she could almost _hear_ him flinch, as if he was _sure_ she would scold and scowl and banish him to the couch. She imagined him hanging his head in shame. The sticky mess on her upper lip dripped onto her tongue. She was reminded how much she liked the taste of it – not because of its odd bitter notes, but because it was _his_.

She didn’t reproach him, even though he’d been very, _very_ bad. She licked her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blushes*
> 
> *sweats profusely*
> 
> *hides face* 
> 
> P.S. Sooooooo yeah, what next? Fluff to cleanse your palatte? Angst to cut the sweetness?


	20. A Thousand Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Ben comes back to bed after having gotten up in the middle of the night for a pee or a drink or whatever when he comes back to bed, the sheets are pulled down around Rey's waist and he can see her breasts she she sleeps. Ben can't help snap a photo on his phone to capture the moment/embarrass/show her later. He wants to show how beautiful she is bc he knows her boobs are an insecurity. This might make him sound like a major creep but I imagine if it tickles your fancy you can run with it in a good way. Lol."
> 
>  
> 
> I hope I ran with it in a good way. You can read this one at work, ya pervs.

It was perhaps the last night of his life – or, at least, the next eighteen years of his life – that Ben would get eight straight hours of sleep. The night before last was _supposed_ to have been the last night, but his wife’s due date and come and gone. He’d slept fitfully the night before the baby was supposed to come; he didn’t sleep at all, now.

It was stiflingly hot under the thin cotton sheet. It was June, and his wife was a _furnace_ – she was cooking a small human, after all. She didn’t want to be touched at night – she’d erected a wall of pillows to _ensure_ that she wasn’t touched – but he could feel her heat from across the mattress.  With a little groan, he rolled out of bed.

Ben looked at himself in the bathroom mirror as he drank a cup of water. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He frowned and ran his hand through his bed-mussed mane. It was hot, but not _that_ hot.

He was nervous. He recognized the fluttery feeling under his breastbone.

He didn’t look like a father, in his rumpled briefs and with sweat beading his upper lip. He just looked like himself. He’d expected there to be some sort of seismic change in him. Maybe that would happen tomorrow – no, _today_. It was past midnight.

Today everything would change. He knew it. He just _knew_ it. He saw his reflection smile. He looked no less nervous when he did.

Ben turned off the light before he opened the door to the bedroom. Rey had always been a light sleeper, insisting that he _breathed too loud_ and stole the covers. Pregnancy had made her even more insufferable. By the light of the moon and the streetlamps outside, Ben could see that her pillow wall was intact. She was curled up on one side of it, the sheet pulled up to her clavicle. She’d gone to sleep in nothing but a pair of panties – whining that she was too hot for clothes – and even now she was frowning, as if the sheet itself offended her.

Ben smiled to himself, watching her.

Rey shifted, making a disgruntled noise. Her nose scrunched up. He held his breath.

She didn’t wake up. Heavily, she half-rolled onto her back, crushing the pillow wall. The sheet slipped down her naked chest and pooled above the mound of her belly.

Rey would have scoffed and grumbled at him for being such a goon but he thought she looked so beautiful.

Ben padded to his bedside table and found his cell phone. The screen’s bright light made him squint. When his vision adjusted, she looked just as beautiful and peaceful. Her breasts moved gently up and down as she breathed. They looked different – swollen, dark-nippled, stretched out. Her body had changed so much, it was almost like seeing a woman naked for the first time every day.

Without knowing _why_ it felt so important to document this mundane, private moment, Ben took a photograph.

***

Two weeks later, Ben was up in the middle of the night again – this time, pacing back and forth and making vaguely soothing noises, his infant son cupped against his shoulder. Rey was eating a pint of ice-cream – breastfeeding burned calories, he’d insisted, plunking it down in her lap and whisking their son away – in bed.

“What time is it?” Her voice was soft. They’d taken to hiding their alarm clocks. They followed the baby’s schedule now. Seeing a red-numbers –and an unreasonable time – when a piercing scream woke them was disheartening. Time didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was whether he was hungry or fussy or needed a clean diaper.

Ben checked his phone. “Almost three. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Rey held out her hand, expectantly. “How many pictures did you take today?”

“Not that many.”

“Bullshit.” Rey wriggled her fingers.

Ben laughed softly. He thought, absently, that soon they would have to be careful not to swear so much. That would be an adjustment. Everything about parenthood was an adjustment, but so far, it felt like everything was clicking into place. “He’s _really_ fucking cute.”

Rey flicked through his phone – perhaps she was right, there were _hundreds_ of pictures – a little smile playing on her lips. Her finger reversed and flicked _backwards_ , after a few minutes.

“Ben.” Rey gave him a funny look. “When did you take this picture?”

Ben leaned over the side of the bed, his hand curling protectively around the nape of their son’s neck. He sure that she was studying a picture of their boy in the sink, having his first bath, or yawning mightily even though _he’d_ had plenty of sleep, unlike his mother and father. Instead, he saw a poorly-lit photograph of Rey’s breasts. He had forgotten about that picture. “The night before you went into labor.”

“Let me rephrase that question.” Rey jerked her hand away when he tried to take the phone from her. “ _Why_ did you take this picture?”

Ben shrugged, helplessly. He knew she wouldn’t yell at him. The baby was almost asleep, making snuffling noises against his neck, and nothing, _nothing_ was worth disrupting him. “You looked so beautiful.”

Rey huffed, ducking her head. Her hair – braided, greasy – fell onto the side of her neck. She hunched her shoulders as if she wanted to hide behind it. She was clutching a pillow to her belly, hiding the still-swollen and slack skin there. She had dark circles and a stain on her nursing camisole. Their son didn’t seem to care when he nestled into her, his face tucked against her breasts, his little fist clenching and unclenching.

Ben sat on the end of the bed and looked at the picture again. He flicked to the left. He hadn’t taken any pictures of Rey in labor – she would probably have killed him, incapacitated by contractions or not. The very next picture was of his freshly-born son, swaddled in a blue and white striped blanket, his eyelids all sticky and his hair standing up.

As he flicked, he watched his tiny son grow and change. The pictures were all… perfect. That made sense, in a way. The boy _was_ perfect, blessed with his head of hair and Rey’s features. But it also disconcerted him. He realized, in retrospect, that he’d wanted to document the night before they went to the hospital – to immortalize Rey’s naked breasts and big belly and smooshed-up sleeping face –because it was raw and real.  

He lifted his cell phone again, and snapped a photograph of her, stained camisole, greasy hair, and all. She was looking adoringly down at their boy. His face was hidden in her breasts.

The flash took Rey by surprise. Her face turned a self-conscious shade of red. “Ben!”

Ben leaned forward and kissed her. He hadn’t kissed her, the first great love of his life, in two days. He’d been too preoccupied with kissing and snuggling the _second_ great love of his life. “I can’t help it. You look so beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drowns in fluff* 
> 
> *is resurrected to write about Ben finding out about Rey's college experimental phase & Ben's subsequent boner & the first movie date next*


	21. Trying Harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I know I said this chapter was going to be about Ben finding out about Rey's experimental college phase and getting a raging boner... 
> 
> ... but this just happened. I don't know. 
> 
> Prompt: trying to concieve, trying to keep it spicy while they're at it.

Rey shrieked at Ben lifted her up in his arms, abruptly. He’d snuck up on her from behind as she made pancakes. She scattered blueberries across the countertop as he manhandled her.

Ben set her down just as abruptly, burying his face in the crook of her neck and crooning, “I’m sorry, my love, my love, my _love_ , my love…”

Rey squirmed against Ben’s forearms, still holding a spatula. She swatted his arm with it – his kisses were tickling her neck. She spun around, brandishing the utensil threateningly.

Her husband ducked away from the spatula. Grinning impishly, he ducked lower, bending his knees and bracing his hands on her hip-bones. He smacked a kiss onto her belly-button, nuzzling his face into her wrinkled pajamas.

“Ben.” Rey tapped the top of his head with the spatula. “What are you doing?”

Ben tipped his head back. “Kissing the baby.”

Rey blinked. “What… _what_ baby?”

Ben’s face fell. “You’re not pregnant?”

Rey felt an inexplicable twist of guilt in her gut. “What made you think I was?”

“I found your prenatal vitamins.” Ben straightened up to his full height. His shoulders hunched forward in disappointment. “I thought…”

“My doctor said I should take them before we start trying.” Rey said, awkwardly. She’d dutifully procured a two-hundred capsule bottle and hid it under the bathroom sink.

Ben looked up, sharply, expectantly. “Do you want to start trying?”

Rey exhaled through her teeth. She wouldn’t have broached the topic with her doctor if she _didn’t_ want to. She’d been planning to broach the topic with her husband, too, after her next period, which was due in two days. She nodded.

Ben lurched towards her, kissing her soundly on the mouth. His fingers fumbled at her buttons of her pajamas. Behind them, a forgotten, lone pancake was burning. He sounded almost _gleeful._ “Let’s try _right now_.”

Rey smacked the back of his head. “Ben!”

“What?” His lower lip jutted out.

“I’m not ovulating.”

Ben’s face scrunched up. “Huh?”

Rey realized, in retrospect, _why_ her husband had thought she was pregnant. Before their wedding, she had begun carefully tracking her period. She used a discrete app with a little blue icon that didn’t look suspicious on the home screen of her cell phone. When she wasn’t fertile, she didn’t insist that he wear a condom. When she was, she did insist. He didn't know the difference.

Of _course_ , the sweet, eager idiot didn’t understand ovulation. Of _course,_ he thought that fucking – _unprotected_ fucking – like bunnies would do the trick, no matter what time of the month it was.

“I can’t get pregnant if I’m not ovulating or about to ovulate.” Rey crossed her arms over her chest. “ _Honestly_ , Ben, did you not pay attention during sex ed?”

“I only paid attention to the fun parts.” Ben tucked her hair behind her ears – first on one side, then the other. His voice took on a wheedling, hopeful quality. “We… we could still do the fun part?”

***

Ben had never scheduled sex before. He never thought he would.

But this month, he had three dates circled on his calendar – t-minus two days until ovulation, t-minus one day, and, as he privately thought of it, _The_ _Big O_.

Giddy as teenagers, they tore off each other’s clothes on the first the circled days, kissing sloppily. They didn’t waste time with foreplay – this was serious business, damnit – or shutting the blinds. They didn’t even undress completely. In the sun-bright kitchen, Ben fucked up into her until he was all the way in, wondering if the nickel-brushed pulls on the cabinets would break off from how hard she was gripping them.

Having sex in the kitchen was hot. Almost _too_ hot. His face buried in her chest, Ben confessed, “I feel kind of weird about conceiving a baby like this.”

Rey laughed. She let go of the upper cabinets and wrapped her arms around his neck. When he lifted his face, bashful and messy-haired, she asked, “Missionary?”

“Missionary.” He agreed.

In the bedroom, they stripped naked and met in the middle of the mattress, breathless with anticipation. Ben settled in between her thighs and got back to the work of impregnating her.

“Harder.” Rey panted, after a few minutes of gentle rocking. “Fuck me _harder_.”

Ben almost told her that he felt _equally_ weird about talking dirty while they were trying to make a precious, innocent little baby. The _weirdness_ of it all was eclipsed by excitement when he thought about a baby. Grunting a little with the effort of thrusting _harder_ , he told her, “I'm gonna put a baby in you.”

That felt like the only appropriate way to talk dirty, given the circumstances. He didn’t mean he was going to put a baby in her _right this very second_ , but his body took his words at face value. His belly tensed and twitched and his balls drew up towards his body. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to.

“Oh, shit.” Ben managed, blinking in time with the rhythmic pulses of cum as he ejaculated. It was an unexpected orgasm, but an exhilarating one.

Rey’s mouth formed a perfect circle. “That was… fast.” 

Ben looked at the alarm clock. Their physical congress had lasted a spectacularly unimpressive grand total of four minutes. His ears burned. “Uh, that was a kink I didn’t know I had.”

***

Ben hoped Rey would say those words again– _that was fast_ – two weeks later. She didn’t. Instead, she said, “We’ll try again.”

She put on a brave face, but Ben couldn’t help feeling a little emasculated. He felt he’d disappointed her. They’d done everything right – they’d timed sex perfectly, charting her basal body temperature and cervical mucus, taken all the proper supplements, abstained from alcohol and sushi.

The next month, she said, “Third time’s the charm?”

The third month, she just shook her head and threw the white plastic stick into the trash can.

Ben knew there was no reason to panic. Perfectly healthy, normal couples took six months or a year to conceive. He’d surmised as much from his late-night internet browsing. Still, the idea of trying to conceive for another three months or six months or nine months was disheartening.

At first, it had all been very exciting. He’d never felt so emotionally or physically intimate with his wife. They were working towards a common goal. Every time they made love, the thought that _this time_ could be the time that he got her pregnant got him off.

That excitement had worn off after the second negative pregnancy test. He couldn’t imagine long months of negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. He worried, irrationally, that Rey would want to give up or change her mind.

The stress of trying to conceive had stilted their sex life, too. They were businesslike about it, diligently having sex even when they’d rather sleep or watch the news. Rey seemed distracted as he pumped away, as if she was already wondering _whether this would work_. Ben found himself wondering the same thing. Then, his anxiety made it harder to orgasm. Afterwards, she put her legs up against the headboard, instead of cuddling.

Ben couldn’t fix the look on her face when a pregnancy test was negative, but their sex life – _that_ , he could fix.  

They watched the news in silence. At eleven-thirty, Rey sat up and yawned. She was wearing a ratty old t-shirt. She looked completely un-sexy. “It’s time for bed. I’m supposed to ovulate this week so we should have sex.”

Ben made a show of sighing deeply and stretching. When he stood up, he hunched over his wife and scooped her up. She squeaked in surprise and clung to his neck. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time for bed.” Ben told her. He set her down on the mattress and tugged her sweatpants and t-shirt off, efficiently. As she watched, he dug around in the dresser and found a pair of lacy panties – black ones, his favorites. “Put these on.”

Rey’s lips quirked. “You’re just going to take them off.”  

“Not yet, I'm not.” Ben told her, grinning. He sat on the foot of the bed.  

Rey cocked her head. She looked intrigued, despite herself. She stood and shimmied out of her gray cotton briefs. She was naked for a moment and Ben regretted handing her the panties. Once the lacy scrap of fabric was settled on her hips, though, he decided it had been a good idea.

Patting his knee, Ben said, in a voice that didn’t sound like his own, “Come sit on my lap, baby girl.”

“You’ve never called me that before.” Rey perched on his knee, her breasts brushing his chest. Event through his t-shirt, he could feel the heat of them. Without further ado, he stuck his hand down the front of her panties, rooting around for her clit and rubbing it between two fingers. He latched onto her nipple and sucked it while he played with her, his hand cramped against her sex by the tight lace of the panties.

“Why...” Rey panted, writhing against his erection. “Why don’t you just take them off?”

Ben let go of her nipple with a _pop_. Against her sternum he said, in a husky voice, “Because I like the way your ass jiggles in those panties and I’m going to spank you.”

Rey blinked down at him. “Spank me?”

“Uh huh.” Ben nipped at her lower lip. “You’ve been a bad girl. You…” He chuckled, breaking character. “I don’t know, what did you do that was bad?”

“I left my dishes in the sink after breakfast.” Rey giggled.

 “Mmm.” Satisfied with that pitiful excuse, Ben kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth. “You need to be punished.”

Rey touched the tip of her nose to his and then sunk off his lap and onto the floor. For a blissful moment, Ben thought she was going to suck his cock. Then, she leaned over his fully-clad lap, wiggling her ass enticingly in the air, and _fuck_ , that was even better.

Those sexy, tiny little panties only covered half of each cheek of her perky little bottom. He traced the lace hem that bisected each cheek and then picked the left. He smacked it with an open palm. It jiggled, obediently.

He slapped the other one. The red marks matched for just a moment, and then the older one faded. That wouldn’t do. Feeling his cock twitch – wondering if she could feel it twitch against her abdomen – Ben spanked her harder, his palm spanning both cheeks. The texture of the lace burned his palm.

 Rey gasped, and for a moment, he thought he’d gone too far. If his hand burned, surely her skin did, too.

She _burned_ , all right, but not in pain. “ _Harder,_ daddy.”

Ben let out a helpless little growl. He spanked her once more, hard enough to make her yelp, and then hauled her off of his lap and threw her onto the bed. A quick unbuckle and unzip and he was straddling her ankles, tearing that scrap of lace off her pussy. He ate her out until she yipped and whimpered, and then crawled up the bed, hooked her legs behind his arms and buried himself inside of her.

If Rey minded that he was still dressed for work, in an Oxford and trousers, or that he’d torn her expensive panties, or that he was holding her in a position a contortionist would admire, she didn’t say. She looked up at him with hooded eyes as he fucked her.

She said it again: “Harder, daddy.”

Ben groaned and lifted her legs higher, resting them on his shoulders. His inhibitions about kinky sex and baby-making were long forgotten. He gripped her ass in both cheeks, smushing the globes together and pulling them apart, and obeyed her. He was _meant_ to play the dominant role in this sex game, but he wanted – needed – to give her everything she wanted. If she wanted it harder, he’d give it to her harder. If she wanted a baby, he’d give her a baby.

Predictably, that thought sent him over the edge he’d been toeing ever since she put those panties on. He dug his fingernails into her ass cheeks as he orgasmed, huffing out obscenities.

Afterwards, he kissed and nuzzled the marks his nails and his blows had left on her backside, while she drowsed on her stomach. Her face half-buried in the pillows, Rey said, in a soft, contented voice, “I hope that made you a daddy.”

Ben chuckled. He kissed her spine, the place where he estimated her middle vertebrae was. He wondered whether it had; whether he would blush a little every time he thought about the raunchy, kinky sex that resulted in his first child. He hoped so. He also hoped that he'd proven something to her and to himself. “I hope that made _you_ feel good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm going to write about Rey's experimental phase now. I promise. 
> 
> P.S. Yes, my headcanon is that kinky!Ben feels kind of weird about having kinky babymaking sex. I thought it kind of fit with his freak-out about poking the baby's head with his dick.


	22. Jess

Whether or not Ben ducked his head and blushed when a woman blatantly sized him up on the subway or at a stoplight depended on two things: whether he was seeing anyone and whether she was cute.

 _This_ girl was cute but he was seeing someone even cuter, as of six weeks ago. He made a little face and looked at his girlfriend out of the corner of his eye. She was flicking through her emails, her lips settled into an adorable little pout.

Part of him hoped Rey had seen the girl across the subway car eyeing him, too, and that she was jealous. That would explain the pout. She’d been grinning all evening. They’d gone to see a movie, making the trek across the Brooklyn Bridge through Midtown to Sheep’s Meadow. Despite the city lights, the park had been dark enough to see the projection screen, and dark enough to fool around in the shadows. He’d felt her up like a teenager on their picnic blanket. They’d neglected the crackers and cheese; they’d finished the wine.

The girl across the train car kept sneaking glances of him. Ben wondered if he still had an embarrassingly obvious erection. He was too straight-laced to let his girlfriend jerk him off in a public park – there were _children_ around, for God’s sake, the movie hadn’t been R-rated – and too keyed up to linger in the shadows until the bulge in his trousers had deflated.

He shifted, crossing his legs nervously and wincing when his thigh crushed his swollen, tender testicles. Rey made a muffled, amused noise, tapping his quadricep to get his attention.

“Excuse me?” A lyrical, low, feminine voice rose over the rattling of the subway. Someone _else_ was trying to get his attention.

Ben felt his ears burn. He knew – he just knew – that they woman who’d been eyeing him had approached. He wondered if he could deflect blame for his little, or rather, not-so-little display. He could say it was his girlfriend’s fault for rubbing his hip and upper, inner thigh through his jeans all night, wearing a shit-eating grin, the light from the projector flickering across her face.

He wondered, for an awful second, if the girl thought that he had a hard-on on the subway because he was some kind of pervert, or worse – because he had kept making eye contact with her.  

But when he twisted in his seat, resisting the urge to cover his lap with his spread palms, the girl looked right past him. “Rey?”

“Jess.” Rey blinked. “Oh. Hello.”

The train jiggled; the girl lurched forward. Rey half-stood and leaned over Ben’s lanky out-stretched legs, as if to hug her. At first, Ben thought the train had shifted again, knocking them off kilter. His heart nearly stopped when he realized that the strange girl – Jess – was leaning in on purpose. She was about to _kiss_ his girlfriend, leaning over his lap.

Rey tilted her cheek at the last moment and dodged the kiss. It landed on the corner of her mouth, instead of squarely her swollen, pink lips.  

Jess didn’t seem offended. She cupped Rey’s cheek with one hand. Her fingernails were purple. Her breasts swung tantalizingly in front of Ben’s face. He hadn’t been tantalized by them until they’d been inches away from _Rey’s_ breasts. “It’s been ages, girl. How have you been?”

 _I’ve never been better, thank you for asking,_ Ben thought to himself. _Thank you for everything_.

***

“Did you have sex with her?” Ben asked, breathlessly, once they were alone, mounting the steps of the subway stop nearest his apartment.

Rey flushed. “No. I mean, not _sex_ sex.”

“Not _sex_ sex?” Ben repeated, blissfully. She was being purposefully vague; his imagination supplied the specifics.

“It was – like she said, Ben, it was _ages_ ago.” The tempo of Rey’s voice increased, as if she was nervous that he’d be angry.  “I was drunk and young and – ”

She must have seen the glistening at the corner of his lips or the glaze of lust in his eyes, because she stopped short. “You’re… not jealous.”

“Jealous? No, I’m _incredibly_ horny. Did she go down on you?”

“Ben!” Rey swatted his chest.

“I need _details_.” Ben told her, shamelessly. He needed them for his spank bank; he didn’t tell her that.

“I was eighteen. We were at the beach. We had a few bottles of wine.” Rey’s cheeks turned red. “We… made out a bit.”

Ben groaned dramatically. “I swear to god, if you didn’t even feel each other up – ”

“Fucking _hell_ , this is so embarrassing.” Rey moaned. “I’m not even – I don’t even like _girls_ , I just wanted to make sure I didn’t.”

“Is that a yes, you felt each other up?”

“Yes.” Rey growled. She stomped ahead of him, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“I’m going to have a wet dream about that.” Ben said, wistfully, to no one in particular.

***

He didn’t have a wet dream. He _did_ have morning wood that would have made his sixteen-year-old self blush. It tented his sheets and left a wet spot on them.

Rey had slept over; she smelled like his soap when she got out of the shower. Ben followed her around his apartment while she made toast and looked for her high-heels. “Babe, I have a boner.”

“And I have a meeting.” Rey eyed said boner, a bobby pin stuck in her mouth.

“Babe.” Ben whined, palming himself. He was completely naked; she was completely dressed. She could suck him off, jerk him off, or inch that tight little skirt up and over her hips and ride him. He wasn't particular. “Please. I had a ridiculously hot dream about you and _Jess_.”

“I’m running late.” Rey’s cheeks darkened. She thought he was teasing her. He was, mercilessly, but he had in fact had that dream.

“It’ll only take five minutes. Maybe three if you do that thing to my balls with your tongue – ”

Rey stood on her tip-toes. She kissed his cheek. Seeming to hesitate, she swayed back and forth for a moment. Then, she whispered in his ear, “She put her fingers in my panties.”

Ben jerked his head back. “Are you fucking serious? You’re going to say that and then leave?”

Rey grinned, waggling her head back and forth. “Dinner tonight?”

“Do you mean _sex tonight_? Because I can’t wait until tonight.” Ben grumbled. “Can you die from blue balls?”

***

Rey was unconcerned by the possibility of death by sexual frustration. Once she left, Ben flopped down onto his couch. He flipped open his laptop and surfed aimlessly for porn. She wouldn’t begrudge him that, he knew.

 None of the clips and thumbnails he saw were quite right. None of them were as erotic as the dream he’d had. In his dream, Rey and Jess had been naked and sandy and he’d been content to watch.

He closed his laptop, slicked his pre-cum up and down his shaft, and closed his eyes. This wasn’t a dream, it was a fantasy. He didn’t have to just watch. He could get in between them, their sand and sweat all over his chest and back.

Rey would be to his front – that way, he could kiss her. He started to pump himself in his clenched fist. Rey would taste as if she’d been in between another woman’s legs. She’d moan into his mouth as Jess reached around his waist to play with her sex.

He’d roll onto his back and they’d kiss, leaning over him, just like they had in the subway. This time, there would be tongue involved. Their nipples would brush, tight, red little points. Their breasts wouldn’t look alike, exactly. He couldn’t quite picture how Jess’s would look, but that was all right. This wasn’t about Jess. Rey would play with his cock while they kissed; the other, strange hand would fondle his balls. Their tongues would wrestle for control. He’d wrap his hands around both of their heads, drawing those wet, sloppy mouths down to his red, eager member.

Ben’s phone pinged. Ben picked it up with one hand, lazily flicking it on. His other hand kept working at his shaft. Rey had texted him.

As if she knew what he would do as soon as she was gone, she’d sent: _she made me come._

Reading that made _him_ come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a challenge to write. I'm suuuuuper hetero and in my headcanon Rey is, too. But this was such a popular request that I decided she'd had a drunk night of experimentation in college. I ended up writing any girl-on-girl action from Ben's perspective because I came to the conclusion that Ben would be *way* more into the idea of Rey gettin' it with a girl than Rey would be about actually gettin' it with a girl.
> 
> P.S. I've been in a bit of a creative drought. Reading Olive Garden is for Lovers gave me a good laugh and reminded me that sometimes you have to just take an idea and run with it. Go read it!


	23. Caveman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ben doesn't like the way Rey's boss is treating her. He gets her fired.

Armitage Hux had seen Ben Solo metamorphize from a shy, gangly college freshman – a virgin – to a strutting senior with a few notches on his belt. He’d seen him through nasty breakups and one-night stands. They’d sworn off women and chased women together.

Hux had seen Ben mope and bemoan that he was unlucky in love. He’d seen Ben fall in love. He’d known it was love even before Ben admitted it. His taciturn, stoic friend became a soft-eyed, stammering idiot whenever Rey smiled.

He’d gotten drunk with Ben the night before his wedding. He’d stood next to him at the altar. He’d made an appropriately embarrassing toast about Tinder and making babies. He’d seen Ben and Rey share a knowing, private look when he did.

He’d never hugged Ben. It was against their unspoken code. They shook hands on sober occasions and slapped each other on the back on joyous ones.

Hux didn’t know _what_ kind of occasion it was when Ben wrapped him in a massive bear hug, lifting him onto his tip-toes and squeezing. “Jesus, _fuck_ , Ben, what the _fuck_?”

“I’m having a baby!”

Hux barely registered what he’d said. “Set me down.”

Ben did. He was grinning ear-to-ear, but eyes were red-rimmed. Hux realized, then, what he’d said. He kept going; the ginger-haired man half-listened. He was in a state of mild shock. “I mean, Rey is the one _having_ the baby, but – I’m, I’m going to be a _dad_ , Arm.”

Hux hesitated for a moment – the _code_ was sacred, after all– and then realized that, for once, words failed him. Slaps on the back and handshakes wouldn’t do. He hugged his best friend. He couldn’t lift him off the ground too – Ben was too heavy – but he tried. Ben whooped with laughter.

***

Rey pulled a bulky turtle-neck sweater over her head. She was trying on her saggiest, baggiest clothing. Why, Ben didn’t know, but he was a willing audience, nonetheless. Her voice was muffled through wool. “I feel so bloated.”

“You’re not showing.” Ben laughed, leaning against their headboard. “But you _are_ glowing.”

“It’s a little early to be making dad jokes, don’t you think?” Rey smoothed the heavy fabric over her middle. Her belly was flat – she was only _just_ pregnant – but as she stretched the sweater over it, she beamed down at it.

“Right there!” Ben pointed at her, accusingly. “That smile.”

Rey stuck her tongue out at him. She bunched the sweater up, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Uh.” Ben blinked at his wife. Suddenly, he realized why she was trying on big sweaters and draping dresses. She was going to use them to hide her belly as it grew. “It’s a secret?”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you tell?”

“No one.” Ben muttered.

“You told Hux, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Ben admitted.

“Who else did you tell?” Rey advanced on their bed. She looked comical in the oversized sweater. It reminded him of when she wore his clothes. He was seized with an urge to throw her down on the bed and have his way with her. He stopped himself. He couldn’t be rough with her now.

“No one.” Ben protested. That was a white lie. He hadn’t exactly told Hux in a hushed whisper. He’d whooped and hollered in the echoing lobby of his office building. Everyone from the security guard to the secretary probably knew. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He’d gotten his gorgeous wife pregnant and their baby was going to be gorgeous. “I want to tell _everybody_ though.”

Rey huffed. “You can tell _everybody_ in eight more weeks.”

She went back to trying on sweaters. Ben resisted the urge to pick up his cell phone, text Hux, and tell him that he was sworn to secrecy. After a moment, he said, “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. How am I supposed to keep it a secret?”

Rey met his eyes through the mirror. She smiled that smile again.

***

Rey was beginning to think her husband had turned into a caveman. He wasn’t bringing home rabbits, collecting firewood, and grunting at anyone who dared look at her, but he was doing the modern equivalents. He stayed up late at night putting their finances in order. He started a college fund for the baby. He fixed everything – _everything_ – she had been nagging him about for weeks: creaky floorboards, lightbulbs, the loose door hinges. He didn’t like her carrying groceries up the stairs or taking the subway – someone might jostle her, he protested, not seeing a baby bump.

At first, it was all very endearing. He was reverting into an ancient, evolutionary role – that of a protector and provider. Her hormones even got the best of her and she cried thinking about how much he already loved their unborn baby, their little secret.

It was less endearing when he tried to force her to eat when she was nauseous. It was not in the _least_ bit endearing when he asked, anxiously, if she’d lost weight. It was absolutely infuriating when he took lunch meat away from her, citing listeria concerns, and made her de-caffeinated coffee.

The last straw came on an otherwise innocuous Tuesday, when she was almost nine weeks pregnant. She was quite proud of how well she’d kept her little secret; her colleagues didn’t suspect that she was expecting. She wasn’t quite sure what her company’s maternal leave policy was, but she was sure she’d hear a snide comment from her supervisor about how he was _running a business_ if she took maternal leave or asked for special accommodations. She wasn’t ready to announce her condition to the world, let alone to her employer, so she’d mastered the art of vomiting quietly and drinking apple juice in a wine glass at happy hours.

There was one symptom, though, that Rey couldn’t explain away. She was tired – so, _so_ tired.

Most days, she crawled onto the couch and fell asleep as soon as she got home. She usually woke up to Ben stroking her hair and cajoling her with food. Sometimes he just carried her straight to bed. She needed eleven or twelve hours of sleep. _Minimum._

Inevitably, some of those hours were spent slumped over her keyboard, drooling, dead to the world, during business hours. On this particular Tuesday, she was rudely awakened by a tap on the shoulder. Her supervisor glared down at her, and then launched into a loud, aggressive tirade about how she would be terminated if he caught her sleeping at her desk again, and how irresponsible it was to come to work hung over. He smacked her desk with his fist, making her jump and flinch.

Humiliated and unable to defend herself without revealing that she was pregnant, Rey texted Ben a rambling paragraph that was at turns self-pitying and self-righteous. That was a mistake. Her husband didn’t call or text back.

Thirty-two minutes later, she heard his booming voice across the room. By the time she scrambled up from her desk and made her way through the maze of cubicles, its timbre had changed. It was low and threatening.

“Do not _ever_ make my wife cry again.” Ben’s index finger was extended, an inch from her boss’s chest. He looked as if he wanted to poke him. Or _punch_ him.  “Or, so help me God, I will make you cry – ”

“Are you threatening me?” Her boss spluttered.

“You threatened to fire my wife!” Ben snarled. “She’s _pregnant_ , not hung over. She’s been vomiting every morning and falling asleep at six o’clock every night and she’s still your best employee _._ ”

Her boss saw her over his shoulder. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” Rey said, in a small voice. She felt, inexplicably, like a small child being shamed.

Her supervisor looked, predictably, disappointed. She’d heard him complain before about how young, female employees were ticking time bombs when it came to pregnancy. “When were you going to share with the class?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Ben interjected.

Her supervisor rolled his eyes heavenward. To the ceiling, he said, “You’re fired, Miss Kenobi.”

Rey let out a little wail. Ben made a noise of outrage. “You can’t do that, jackass. It’s illegal.”

“I’m not firing you because you’re pregnant.” Finally, her boss addressed Rey, red-faced. He had the grace to look a little ashamed. “I’m firing you because your husband is out of line coming in here like this.”

***

They walked home in stiff silence. Ben wouldn’t let Rey hold the cardboard box of her things – her kitten calendar, the framed photograph of their wedding, her orchid, her stapler.

Finally, Rey said, stiffly, “This is the twenty-first century, Ben. You don’t have to be my knight in shining armor.”

Ben’s jaw twitched. “This _is_ the twenty-first century. Your boss can’t discriminate against you like that –”

“Stop changing the subject.” Rey knew he was right; Ben’s outburst was a convenient excuse to fire her. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, though.

Ben scowled. “You should be happy I didn’t do what I came there to do. Then you’d be unemployed _and_ a single parent, because I’d be in jail.”

Rey exhaled, sharply. “Stress is bad for the baby.”

“ _Exactly_. Exactly.” Ben’s mouth was set stubbornly. “ _He_ was out of line.”

Rey growled low in the back of her throat. “Ben, I meant that being _unemployed_ is stressful.”

Ben stopped and set the box down, putting his hands on his hips. He ducked down so he was at eye-level with her. “You know I can take care of you, right?”

“Is that what you’ve been trying to prove?” Rey asked, equal parts exasperated and touched.

“You know I can.” Ben pressed. “Don’t you?”

It was hard to admit that he could – or that she wanted him too – even after three years. Before Ben, she’d relied only on herself for twenty-three years. “Do you mean _financially_? Now that you’ve gotten me sacked?”

“I mean it in every way.” Ben looked very serious. He didn’t take the bait.

“I don’t _need_ you to.” Rey said, finally. She might, after all, need him to carry her to bed and hold her hair while she vomited but she conveniently forgot those things.

“But _I_ need to.” Ben’s throat bobbed. She saw his giant hands flex with the effort of not touching her. He looked hulking and huge, even though he was ducking towards her, his hair falling abashedly in his face. Her husband, the caveman. “I need to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! My fields are flourishing, my crops are watered, my muse is back. I want to write. Give me a prompt for this series, and let me know what you think of this idea... a canon-verse shortish multi-chapter piece feat. exiled/jailed Ben Solo, a Very Angry Rey, and, uh, hate-sex. I know the exiled Ben Solo trope has been done to death but I literally never get sick of it and that trailer. Got. Me. Thinking. 
> 
> P.S. Her boss seems like a caricature, but he isn't. Sometimes, your boss really sucks. Trust me.


	24. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute! Have some Christmas smut and fluff.

“What do you buy the girl of your dreams for Christmas?” Ben mused aloud, his mouth half-full of a Reuben sandwich.

“A diamond.” Hux ate far more elegantly; with precise, short bites.

Kylo exhaled through his nostrils. “…when you’ve only been dating the girl of your dreams for seven months.”

“You mean,” Hux’s voice lilted. “When you want to buy her a diamond, but you know she’d freak if you proposed?”

“Yes.” Ben admitted, grudgingly. Hux knew him too well; he couldn’t hide behind a gruff denial.

“Two diamonds.” Hux decreed. “Somehow, that’s less intimidating than one diamond.”

“Earrings?” Ben asked, skeptically. Rey hardly wore jewelry; he doubt she’d wear diamond earrings. Besides, earrings seemed… impersonal. He’d been procrastinating his Christmas shopping because he couldn’t find anything that suited _her_ ; he was out of time.

“Expensive ones.” Hux nodded, emphatically.

***

Somewhere between New York and San Francisco, Ben and Rey’s bags went missing. He was thankful, then, that he’d taken Hux’s advice. The earrings were expensive – very expensive. He’d tucked them in his carry-on for safekeeping.

He wasn’t any less grumpy about their bags going missing. As they circled the Bay and drove towards Napa, their clunky rental car whirring over the hills, he grouched and flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Rey cupped her hand around the back of his neck, leaning onto the console between their seats. She was smiling in that nervous way of hers.

“Wherever my bags are.” Ben mumbled.

Rey’s brow creased. Very solemnly, with the authority of someone who’d _never_ been home for the holidays but had tearfully watched a _million_ Hallmark movies, she said, “Christmas isn’t about things, Ben. It’s about being with the people you love.”

He’d never tire of hearing that four letter word pass her lips, even if she was scolding him. He tried to keep frowning, but it was hard. His mouth flexed and contorted as he tried to stop himself from smiling. Her pleased laughter was like sleigh bells as they crested the hill and turned into his mother’s long gravel driveway.

***

There was a silver living, as it turned out, to the airline’s negligence. Rey borrowed one of his old t-shirts. It was worn, baggy, and festooned with a punk band logo.

“You look sexy.” Ben told her, grinning.

“You look like a teenager.” Rey teased. His shirt was emblazoned with his high school’s mascot. He hadn’t worn it since he’d been skinny, seventeen and a decent pitcher, jingling the keys to an old Chevy Impala and trying to hide his ears behind his hair – well, he hadn’t outgrown _that._

Ben examined the old blue shirt. It was a bit – a _lot_ – tighter on him, at thirty-one. He had a sudden, perverse thought. “Would you have banged teenaged me?”

Rey made a ridiculous snorting sound. “I would have been in elementary school – ”

“ _Theoretically_.”

Rey bit her lip. Her eyes flitted across his chest. His pectorals stretched the mascot into an odd shape. “I’d theoretically bang you.”

Ben waggled his head, wondering how he’d grown up and gotten lucky enough to _bang_ , for lack of a better word, this woman. “You sure? I was _very_ uncool.”

“You still _are_ very uncool.” Rey kissed his chin. “I’m going to help your mom with dinner.”

As she turned to leave, Ben caught her wrist. He kept his face straight, as if he were discussing how the weather in Napa was a huge improvement over a Northeast squall. “You know, I never did it in this room.”

Rey snorted. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were uncool.”       

“I wish I’d known you back then.” Ben told her, trying to draw her into his arms. “I wish I’d known you my whole life.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Rey’s cheeks flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. She was always embarrassed when he said things like that; it was too soon, he knew, they’d only been dating for seven months, but he didn’t care.

***

Ben decided that he was never going to take Hux’s advice again – ever – when he saw Rey’s face as she opened the little velvet box that held the expensive earrings. “But I thought – ”

“I had them in my carry-on.” Ben said, weakly.

His girlfriend’s mouth trembled. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

He knew that was an excuse – something else was bothering her. She hated the earrings. He watched, numbly, as his mother distributed parcels. Sweaters, scarves, books. Sensible, sweet gifts. Rey’s smile reached her eyes as she opened them.

“You shouldn’t have.” Rey told his mother, hugging her, but Ben knew she didn’t really mean it.

When she cornered him in the kitchen between dinner and dessert, she said those words again, and she _meant_ it.

“It’s Christmas.” He protested, holding up a platter as sort of a shield.

“Ben!” Rey hissed his name. “They’re too expensive.”

“I made you a scrapbook.” Rey wailed, her eyes filling with self-conscious tears. “And it’s probably on some _conveyer belt_ at _LaGuardia_!”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” Ben said, weakly. He would, he knew. He kept all matter of silly little mementos – the receipt from their first date, the sticky note she’d left with a note on his mirror after the third time they’d had sex, the tickets from the first movie they’d gone to. It was sentimental, but so was he. She knew him well.

That, he realized, was the problem. She’d given him something that she knew he’d love even if it had little objective or material value. He’d given her something… expensive.

“I’ll return them.” He hurried to say. “I’ll get you something else.”

“It’s not – I don’t – ” Rey tried to explain twice, and then exhaled loudly. “They’re lovely. But I feel guilty.”

She didn’t hate them, then. Ben brightened up. “What did you say about Christmas spirit? It’s not about things.”

Rey glowered. “That’s just something people say. I wish I had something to give you.”

Ben was the sort of person who didn’t make a Christmas list. When his mother asked him what he wanted he said _nothing._

Suddenly, inappropriately, he could think of something he wanted from Rey. “Give me a blowie on my twin bed upstairs and we’re even.”

For a moment, he thought Rey was going to slap him. “Are… are you serious?”

Ben cringed. “…Yes? No?”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. She looked, for a second, like his mother. He winced, feeling more like a seventeen-year-old than ever before. “Yes.”

“What?” Ben choked. “Wait, really? Really?”

Sitting through dessert was _torture._

***

“Nobody ever blew you up here?” Rey asked, breathlessly, once they’d slipped away to, ostensibly, find their jackets and shoes for a walk around the neighborhood to see the Christmas lights. She shoved him onto the narrow twin bed and, once he’d unfastened his jeans, tugged them down to his knees.

“Backseat of my car.” Ben said, by way of explanation. He didn’t want her to think he’d been  _too_ uncool. Her hand was chilly on his shaft as she steadied herself with it as she sunk to her knees – it felt hard enough to support her weight. He couldn’t remember being this turned on in a long time. Even the rasp of his old wool blanket against his ass was exciting.

Her mouth was as warm as her hand was chilly when she eased the bulbous head of his cock past her lips and teased its slit with her tongue. Ben looked around wildly as she bobbed an inch lower at every sucking pass. He wanted to watch his dick disappear into her mouth bit by bit but he also wanted to take in his surroundings. This had never happened _here._

Fondling his balls in one clever hand, Rey drew back with a slick, obscene sound that he worried his mother could hear from downstairs. “What was her name?”

“Huh?” Ben managed to ask, his hands fisted in his old striped sheets.

“Her name.” Rey repeated, her finger inching past his balls to rub gently at his perineum. His mind whited out; it was a good thing she prompted, “Backseat girl.”

“Oh, uh…” Ben faltered. She was still rubbing that spot, her nail almost itching it. He could barely think but he could think enough to pretend he didn’t know the answer to her question. “I don’t remember.”

Rey nuzzled just under the head of him, her nose tickling his frenulum as she held his dick up towards the ceiling. “You don’t remember?”

He was a poor liar. Trying to change the subject, Ben said, choppily, “Less talking, more sucking.”

He didn’t normally boss her around, but in bed – apparently, even in his childhood bed – was the exception. “Sucking?”

“Or…” Ben whetted his lips. “That thing. You know.”

She did know. Pumping him gently in one hand, she ducked under his cock and drew her tongue along his testes. Taking each into her mouth in turn, she handled them with utmost gentleness. He didn’t like gentleness in any other context, but this – this made his eyes roll back. She dragged her tongue between his swollen, warm balls, bisecting them and catching the loose, sticky skin in between them so they dangled on either side of her tongue as she wriggled it.

“Fuck.” Ben whispered, flopping back onto the bed and hitting his head. He’d forgotten how narrow it was, and that there was a wall behind it. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t stop.” He panted. She took him back in her mouth, obligingly. When Ben propped himself up on his elbows to watch her suck him off, he saw that his precum was dribbling out of the side of her mouth.

Part of him wanted to leave a stain on his childhood sheets – God, how satisfying would that be? – but his mother would wash this bedding eventually, even though they were sleeping down the hall in the guest room, and then she would _know._ That thought was as terrifying to him now as it had been at seventeen.

He came down her throat, instead, in a hot, grateful gush, his abdomen contracting and his spoiled, spit-wet balls tightening up.

Kissing his chin, Rey rose over him and braced her hands on his childhood bed. “Merry Christmas.”

Ben opened one eye. In a raspy voice, he said, “I never ate a girl out on this bed, either.”

Rey giggled, hiding her face in his chest. “This was supposed to be your present.”

“Mmm.” Ben wrapped his arms around her, not caring that they’d been gone for a suspiciously long time and that his pants were still around his knees. “But I’m in the giving spirit.”


	25. First Time, Sort Of

Ben sidled across the kitchen and then took one long side-ways step, his hip colliding briefly with his wife’s backside as he bent over and kissed the nub of bone on the back of her neck, sweeping her tangled nest of a bun away from it with one hand. “Babe.”

Rey made a noncommittal noise, popping the aluminum foil off of the pan and taking out a slice of cold scalloped potatoes, stuffing it in her mouth.

“Babe.” Ben repeated, patiently. Her mouth was full. He could wait. He leaned on the kitchen counter.

“Mmmm.” Instead of answering, Rey ate another cold piece of leftover potato. Ben’s mother had cooked a huge sheet pan full of bacon and cheddar scalloped potatoes and two whole chickens, saying that they could eat like kings for a week. Wisely, he chose not to remind his wife of his mother’s intentions. Instead, he watched her devour the cold potatoes, in too big of a hurry to reheat or consider sensible portion sizes. He prodded her shoulder.

“ _Babe_.” He drew out the syllable in a whining tone, when she continued to ignore him, eating with a single-minded purpose. He was surprised that she didn’t just used her _hands._

Rey gave him a look. “You only call me _babe_ when you want something.”

“We- _ell_ …” Ben hedged. He bounced on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

Rey exhaled through her teeth and said in flat, accusatory tone, “You want sex.”

Ben blinked, defensively, and deflated. “Jesus, when you say it like that – ”

“Like what?” Rey narrowed her eyes.

“Never mind.” Ben amended quickly. He cleared his throat, and started over, abandoning the use of _babe_ and asking very formally, “Do you want to have sex, my darling, my love, my dear?”

Rey chomped into another cold potato, considering him. She was seemingly immune to his charms. He started to squirm in his skin. “Can I just give you a blow job?”

Ben sighed heavily. “I never thought I would say this, but…”

“But what?” Rey colored, furiously stuffing more potato in her mouth.

“But… _just_ a blow job?”

Rey covered the potatoes with unnecessary force, ripping the aluminum foil. “You never seemed to mind when I was on my period.”

“Your period is only, like, four days.” Ben retorted. “I would have sex with you if you were gushing blood, at this point. I would have sex with you under water. Upside down. If you hadn’t bathed in days.”

Rey laughed despite herself. “I _haven’t_ bathed in days.”

“I don’t care.” Ben said, instantly. She was laughing; that meant she’d softened to him and his cause. “Please, babe. Sorry – sweetheart.”

“It’s okay.” Rey stepped closer and hugged him around his stomach. “I like when you call me babe.”

“You know I still think you’re completely gorgeous?” Ben asked, into her hair.

“It’s not that.” Rey’s voice was muffled.

“What is it?”

“I just… don’t… want to.” Rey admitted. She lifted her face and must have seen the hurt on his. “It’s not you. I swear. It’s just… I don’t want to.”

Ben was suddenly awash with guilt. “I’m sorry, I’m being a dick about this – ”

“No, it’s okay.” Rey bit her lip. She seemed to consider for a moment, her hands planted on his pectorals. “It’s been ten weeks. My doctor said to wait six weeks.”

“We _really_ don’t have to – ”

“Ben. Stop. Let’s have sex.” Rey cut him off, kissing him briefly and determinedly. “I can’t put it off forever.”

In retrospect, Ben should have known that those words portended disaster. Sex wasn’t something to be _put off_ – or at least, it shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t a chore. It was something he craved. He craved it so much that his lizard brain ignored all of the red flags.

He’d had bad sex before, mostly in college. He’d never had bad sex with Rey before.

And it was bad, not just because it was bad, but because it made him feel bad.

“Don’t.” Rey swatted his hand away when he attempted foreplay, reaching between her thighs. “We might not have much time before he wakes up.”

“I want to get you ready.” Ben kissed her belly button, pushing her shirt up.

“I want to keep this on.” Rey tugged her shirt back down. She flushed. “And I pushed a baby out of there. I think it’s stretched out plenty.”

Ben pouted, laying on his elbows between her thighs. “Can I at least _see_ your boobs?”

Rey worried the hem of her nursing tank-top. “Just… just don’t touch my nipples. Okay?”

“Uh… okay.” Ben reached up and unclipped one side of the tank-top, and then the other. Lust overwhelmed his good sense and ability to articulate in a way that could be construed as romantic. “Fuck, they’re _huge_.”

“Just don’t – ”

“I’m not touching the nipple.”

“They’re sensitive.” Rey snapped, as his hand cupped the underside of her breast. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then she clipped her tank back up, covering herself, and exhaled in a _whoosh._ “Let’s just…”

“Yeah.” Embarrassed, Ben hid his face in her soft tummy. “Uh, how do you want…?”

Rey looked down between their bodies at his naked, jutting erection. “Just put it in.”

“That sounds sexy.” Ben deadpanned. When she screwed up her face to argue, or, God forbid, tell him to get his pants back on and get the hell off of her, he rushed to say, “Okay, okay.”

He tugged her panties down and climbed up her body, an ungainly tangle of unpracticed limbs, and prodded at her cunt with his member, wondering, irrationally, if it had _moved_. Everything else on her body seemed to have. It was suddenly hard to find his way inside, but maybe that was just his nerves.

“Wait, wait, _wait_. Condom. Condom!” Rey bleated, pushing frantically at his chest as he tried to penetrate her with all the grace of an eighteen-year-old.  

“Oh, shit.” Ben rolled off of her and reached into the bedside table. He’d just as soon _not_ use a condom – it had taken them months to get pregnant the first time, their kid was cute, his wife’s boobs were _fantastic_ , life was good and would be even better if they had a little accident –  but he had a feeling Rey would schedule his appointment for a vasectomy _herself_ if he got her pregnant again when their first child wasn’t even sleeping through the night yet.

“Oh, shit.” Rey was the one saying that a few moments later when he nudged into her.

Ben froze, half-way in. “Hurt?”

“Yes – fuck, did your dick get bigger?”

“Uh…” Ben hesitated. “I can’t decide if I like hearing that or – ”

Rey rolled her eyes. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

She didn’t say it in a sexy way. But he tried. He really did. She flinched away when he tried to rub her clit or grind his pelvis against it. Her breath didn’t catch or hitch. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a little grimace.

“Are you close?” He felt stupid asking when the obvious answer was _no_ , but it was the only way he knew to ask _is this okay for you_? Not _good_ , just _okay._ Tolerable.

Rey shook her head, opening one eye. “I’m not going to orgasm.”

“Not with that attitude you aren’t.” Ben tried to joke as he kept pumping, miserably.

“No, I mean it.” Rey pecked his chin. “Just hurry up and finish. It’s fine.”

It was not fine. Now that she’d told him to finish, he couldn’t. He was self-conscious of the pleasure he took in thrusting in and out of her body. He was mortified that he could enjoy intercourse when she couldn’t. He tried to make it quick and that made his nervousness even worse. He didn’t want to _pummel_ her. It was oddly lop-sided to feel so good but so guilty.

For the first time in his life, Ben had performance anxiety. With a groan, he sunk down on top of his wife, shaking his head against her clavicle. “I don’t think I can cum.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have sex.” Rey sounded almost hurt.

Lifting his head, Ben kissed her shoulder. “Not without you.”

Rey’s lower lip quivered. He was still inside her but he was going soft and she felt it. Her eyes welled. “Ben, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t fucking apologize.” For a moment Ben was angry, moreso with himself than her. Then he softened. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize.”

Rey just sniffed as he slipped out of her, completely flaccid, and tore the condom off. She was still lying prone when he came back from slingshoting the latex into the bathroom trashcan and turning off the light. The glow of the baby monitor screen illuminated her face.

“Did I hurt you?” He murmured, into her shoulder.

“No.” Rey kissed his hand.

“Liar.”

“I had a baby. It’s all relative.”

Ben chuckled despite himself. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Rey curled in on herself. They each held their breath as the baby stirred, his hiccupping little breaths coming through the monitor. As he settled back down to sleep, they did, too, exhaling with relief.

Ben had heard that new parents valued sleep over sex. He’d never believed it – he still didn’t. Sex was great. Or, it should be. It would be again.

But sleep – sleep was good too. Great. Really, really great. Rey began to snore and not even _that_ could keep him awake.

Ben woke up to Rey frantically shaking his shoulder. Light was peeping through the bedroom window. It wasn’t daybreak yet, but it wasn’t pitch black anymore. It wasn’t the middle of the night. Their son should have been awake hours ago, screeching for their attention. “Fuck. Fuck, is he breathing?”

He nearly leapt out of bed. He stopped short when Rey yanked on his arm, and tumbled back onto the mattress. “He’s breathing. I went in and checked.”

“He…. what?” Ben rubbed his eyes. “He slept through the night? What time is it?”

“Seven.” Rey bit her lip. “Babe.”

“Huh?” Ben looked at her blearily.

“Babe.” Rey repeated, a little grin tugging the corner of her mouth. “Let’s have sex.”

Ben was sure he was still dreaming. “Huh?”

“I want to use lube. A _lot_ of lube.”

Catching up to her, Ben nodded, frantically, over and over.

“I don't want you to touch my boobs and I want to be on top.”

“Whatever you want.” He wheezed, as she straddled him. He knew better than to question the wiles of her hormones. “I just want you to _want_ to.”

“I really, really do.” Rey kissed his mouth, slipping her tongue into it.

Ben knew they were pressing their luck, trying to fuck on borrowed time. But she kissed him like she had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN. 
> 
> I just couldn't leave these two alone. Prompt me.


	26. Safe Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not smut for the faint of heart my friends. So many of you asked - so many times - for more episodes about Ben's drawer that I decided to make you wish you'd never asked. So, yeah. It's... a lot.

“We’ve never needed one before.” Rey pointed out. “I trust you, Ben.”

“That’s why we need one.” She would have called him out on being so condescending if she weren’t so horny. “You trust me enough to _use it_ and not worry that I’ll be mad or embarrassed.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend, tapping her toe on the scratched hardwood floors of her pre-pre-war apartment. She picked a safe word at random. “Spaceship.”

“Okay, nerd.” Ben rolled his eyes. He stood up from the couch, dusting his jeans off as if they were dusty and not in fact clean. “Get your ass in bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Rey wrinkled her nose playfully, feeling a frisson of anticipation. “My ass?”

Ben wiggled his brows. “You’ll see.”

“Can you at least tell me what you’re getting from the drawer?” Rey hovered by the edge of the mattress, fingering the hem of his too-large t-shirt. She loved borrowing his clothes, even though they were all folded neatly next to hers, now that they cohabitated.

Their new living arrangements were the impetus for establishing _fun drawer Fridays._ Ben wouldn’t let her call these scheduled romps anything more ridiculous than that. Rey had always thought that scheduling sex was, well, _un-sexy_ , but this – this was a different type of sex. It was the type of sex they’d started having to prove to themselves that they _weren’t_ boring now that they had settled into domestic – if unmarried – bliss.

This was the inaugural _fun drawer Friday_ , and Rey was on pins and needles. 

“Rey.” Ben’s voice was muffled. He was squatting by the roll-top desk, digging through the drawer. “It’s more about what _isn’t_ in the drawer.”

It became clear to Rey what he meant by that when he fucked her face, one hand gripping her bun – it was half-fallen out – and one clawing into her shoulder. All business, he’d told her to lay naked on the center of the mattress, mounted it and her, and nudged his cock past her lips. He didn’t even give her a chance to moisten his shaft with her spit or work up to deep-throating him. She gagged a bit.

When he drew back, quite considerately, Rey choked out, “Wait, are we starting already?”

“Shut up.” Ben said, his voice almost eerily calm and deep. “You talk when I tell you to talk. You say what I want you to say.”

So they had started already. Rey gulped, aroused beyond reason.

“Or your safe word.” Ben’s voice rose in timbre just slightly. “You can always, always say – ”

“I _know_.” Rey half-laughed, exasperated but endlessly fond of him, even with his turgid erection poking her cheek and his balls brushing her lips.

“Okay.” Ben chuckled, awkwardly. He fell slowly back into character as she kept sucking him off. She got the distinct impression that he was _allowing_ her to suck him off, rather than just fucking right past her tonsils. It felt nearly indulgent. “I could gag you but I want to see if you can be good. My stubborn girl. Might kill you not to talk back.”

He was right. It nearly did. She hollowed out her cheeks and cupped the cheeks of his backside, clawing gently at the soft globes of it. Her index fingers, her curious, curious index fingers, were inching closer together, down into the cleft of his ass, when he yanked her hair and she _popped_ right off of him. Dazed, she looked up.

Without a word, he took advantage of the way looking up opened her throat at an almost unnatural angle and started face-fucking her again, his hip-bones making contact with her ears. When she made a gurgling, shocked noise, he repeated, in a flustered huff, “Shut _up_.”

When Ben withdrew from between her jaws again, Rey almost – _almost_ – snarked that she hadn’t said anything, she’d gargled, she’d been gagging on his dick, after all, but she remembered herself and didn’t. He looked smug. Leaning over her, he took a bottle of lube off of the nightstand. It was pretty, for lack of a better word – pink and discreet, with an opaque swirl on the lid.

Smearing lube on his fingers, Ben all but shoved them in her mouth, cramming two, three, four fingers in. “Tastes good, huh?”

Rey knew better than to answer. It _did_ taste good, like cotton candy.

“Why do you think it needs to taste good? You can answer.”

Rey waited, patiently, for him to take his thick fingers out of her mouth. She wondered, for a moment, whether he’d forgotten they were in there, impeding her speech. Then she saw his smug smile. He was teasing her. She tried to make the words around his knuckles and just moaned and drooled everywhere.

“What?” Ben slipped his slick, lube-slippery fingers from her mouth.

“Because you’re going to eat it?” Rey cracked, hopefully, licking her lips both with anticipation and to get the last of that syrupy sweet goodness from them.

“Smart girl.” Scooting back, Ben stuck a finger unceremoniously in her cunt. It squelched. “I don’t need it here. You’re fucking soaked.” He dragged the finger out of her cunt and down her perineum, making her twitch with the pleasant tickle of it. He poked the tight knot of muscle between her ass cheeks, one he’d played with and stretched and fucked plenty of times by now, ever since she’d first begged him to. That had been their first foray into – _this_ , whatever _this_ was. “I need it here.”

It took a moment for Rey to put two and two together. Ben grinned like the Cheshire cat when she did. “I’m going to eat your ass.”

While she was still reeling and trying _so hard_ not to react – even for him, that was filthy, and she’d seen his web browser history – Ben matter-of-factly lubed up a respectably sized black silicon plug, humming to himself like a serial killer in a movie who went through an elaborate ritual before murdering someone.

The hind-part of Rey’s brain hilariously supplied that he was going to murder her asshole, instead.

She squeaked – she couldn’t help it – when he hooked one knee over his shoulder and pushed the plug against her ass, wriggling it and working it in. He gave her a pointed look and she clapped her hand over her mouth, craning, wide-eyed, to see the plug disappear into her body.

 “I thought you were going to eat my ass.” Rey finally caved and taunted him. The stretch of the plug was nice, tingly, but not _enough_. She needed to bait him into giving her more.

Ben tapped the base of the plug thoughtfully, making her shiver. The taut skin between her asshole and her pussy quivered at the impact. “Did I say you could talk? So fucking sassy.” His voice was warm with unmistakable affection. “I _am_ going to eat your ass. I’m going to do _everything_ to that sweet little ass. I’m going to plug it up, fuck it, and lick it. In that order. I need the lube to cover the taste of my cum. Tasting my own cum would be disgusting.”

Rey almost snorted. “But you want to lick my asshole?”

“I’m a man of taste, Rey.” Ben grinned wolfishly. “Now be a good girl and _shut up_.”

Rey did, obediently. She wasn’t sure how things would progress, only that they would in that order, so she almost moaned when Ben led the head of his dick to her cunt and started to press in with all of the patience he hadn’t had for her mouth.

“Ben, I…” Her words left her in a whoosh. There didn’t seem to be any space for air left in her body once he was bottomed out in her. She felt so tight. Her belly twitched and she squirmed, trying to alleviate the pressure. “Too big. I can’t.”

Ben’s face changed. He’d been studying her, as if her reactions were what really turned him on, not penetrating two of her holes at once. Now, he looked concerned. He reared up and back, trying to pull out to no avail – she really was too tight. They could be stuck together forever, Rey thought, faintly. Not such a terrible fate at all.

“I’m sorry, I can – ”

“Ben.” Rey interrupted. “I’m playing along. I know how a fucking safe word works.”

“Oh.” Ben blinked. His shoulders relaxed and his pelvis relaxed and he sunk deeper. “You’re really good at this.”

“ _You’re_ out of character.”

Ben corrected himself. “You _feel_ so good. Cunt feels so fucking tight.” He started to jab in and out of her, forcing strangled, pleasured noises past her pressed lips. He didn’t seem to mind. “But I bet your asshole feels even tighter. I want to switch places with that plug.”

At first, Rey thought he was just talking nonsense. Her stream of consciousness certainly was just pleasured nonsense. Then, he pulled out, with great effort, and tugged the plug from inside her ass. As it extended the ring of muscle briefly, she groaned with surprise and enjoyment.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt something slippery and unmistakably silicon press against her cunt. “Oh – wait. Ben, you can’t put it – ”

Ben huffed out a laugh. “It’s a clean toy. You really think I don’t know better? Or that I only have one? I’m insulted, Rey, honestly.”

Rey giggled despite herself. Her laughter faded into a long, low _ooooh_ as he pressed the curved, pink phallus into her, with just a bit less dexterity than he could put his own penis into her. He fumbled a bit more – maybe with excitement? – as he lifted her hips off of the bed to get her at a more extreme angle, slung her ankles over his shoulders, and pressed his cockhead into her ass. Normally, when they had anal sex, the initial press of his head was the hardest, followed by the east stretch and slide of his shaft. Now, the whole length of his cock felt like his head. The whole of her felt like the tight ring. It was hard the whole time he pushed in. Rey babbled some nonsense as he bottomed out, something about feeling completely _stuffed_ and _folded in half_. Thankfully, the no talking rule seemed to be forgotten. Ben panted, “You like that?”

What left Rey’s mouth was unintelligible. They push-pulled together for a bit – or it could have been a long time, she really had no concept of time – and she became vaguely aware that although the pace and depth of his thrusts hadn’t changed, something in her had. She didn’t feel quite so stuffed and uncomfortable anymore. She felt like a bowl filled up with water, sloshing and spilling over the brim a bit more each time. No matter where she wiggled she couldn’t do anything to get away with him. It felt like the water was rising, and when it tipped over the top of the bowl, she tried to clench and keep it in. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear down and ease the intensity of her orgasm that way. She could only bear it. She was too _full_.

Ben peppered her face with wet kisses as he pulled out of her and she realized she’d completely _missed_ his orgasm, completely caught up in her own. She wouldn’t have know he’d cum if it weren’t for the mess leaking indecently out of her ass, pooling under her on the bed.

He was being so sweet that she thought they were finished with _fun drawer Friday_. Then, her _thighs_ were inched up over his shoulders, one by one, and, with a devilish grin, he kept his word.

She’d never felt his tongue there before. It was odd. It didn’t feel quite like she expected and if she hadn’t just had a mind-blowing orgasm she would have been more self-conscious. His tongue traced her almost politely and then lapped comfortingly. As his hands kneaded her cheeks, his tongue pressed harder, soothing the sore, over-worked muscles of her rim. It was a totally different experience to being eaten out by him. He was voracious, almost filthy when he did _that_. Ironically, he was almost delicate when he did _this_. It somehow felt less dirty. Her orgasm was a ticklish, relaxing thing that was shocking for how intense it _wasn’t_.

“Do…” Ben crawled up her body halfway, hovering over her. “Do you not want me to kiss you now?”

Rey chortled, recognizing Ben – bashful Ben – again. “Um… use mouthwash?.”

He did; when he fell back into bed on theatrically wobbly knees afterwards, he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me! Also, please leave feedback - that's how I get "paid."


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